My pack lies next to my cupboard door spilling onto the carpet. In the lamp-light I’m typing by it appears to have been disembowelled, or at least stabbed repeatedly. Wow, I think I need to stop watching crime shows… The other night it was standing upright in my cupboard and after a particularly stressful day I was neurotic enough to think that it was staring at me. Glaring at me, if you will, for not having done the test pack I had promised it. So freaked out by this pack’s willingness to be packed and strapped to my back I actually got out of my warmed and cosy bed to shut the door, and keep the glaring clothing vestibule out of sight. I think I really need to go soon; the pack not only stares at me, but is now a victim of a homicide.
Anyway, the point of that alarming story is that I am ready to go. Set, prepared, pumped to depart, eagerly awaiting my exit. I still have the general things to buy – Aussie flag, new Dunlop Volleys, Panadol, Nurofen, Imodium (let’s pray I won’t use that), an empty USB unlike all the photo filled ones I own, and other totally necessary items I will somehow justify buying. Do I need a new wallet? I mean, mine has a tiny scratch on the back. No! Stop it!
Two weeks and counting hey… two weeks ’til I hop on a plane and fly to the States of America which are oh so United and begin life as a Camp Counsellor. The customs official who interviewed me a few months back asked me if I had had much to do with children. I said no, not really. And she laughed. This is slightly unnerving, but I do have one very good card to play. I am teaching horse riding. And what do young and teenage girls like more than boys and under-age drinking? That’s right, PONIES. So I am hoping the squealing girls will be so excited by Silver, Hi-Ho and Flashdance (these are obviously what Americans call their horses) that they won’t notice my lack of experience in “working with children”… And the boys I'm teaching? Not so sure how to handle that, but I am thinking some sort of Cowboys and Indians reference might help me there...
So. Two more weeks of trying not to spend money, catching up with friends before I go, helping my pack lose a few kilos, learning to ride again, attempting to quell the occasional (ok, frequent) surges of panic, re-checking the date and time of my flight and waking up each morning remembering that I am not at uni, and do not have essays to write this week. Very weird. Very exciting. And, ok, very freaking scary for a girl who’s only been away as far as New Zealand…
