beyond the breakfast pastry.

Guess who is definitely working at Danish!

SPOILER ALERT: IT’S ME.

So my summer looks like this:

-currently: trying to clean a good 6 years’ worth of bad teenage poetry out of my desk, helping with MH summer swim, and sleeping too much
-starting 9 June: driving to Minneapolis to see family for the first time in what feels like ages
-starting 14 June: lifeguarding/being the business manager at Skovsøen, the Danish immersion camp (one thousand points for anyone who can make the appropriate Veggie Tales reference)
-starting 13 July: counseling at Sjölunden
-starting 9 August: spending some last bits of time in Idaho, perhaps sneaking down to Pocatello for a day or so?
-(something like) 20 August: going to Sweden. The plane will probably land before I realize that it’s actually real. AH.

And in water-is-wet-type news, all of those things are making me crazy. For the primary reason that they mean a lot of what I described to my parents last night as “uprootedness,” i.e., very much not Pocatello and not the routine I got used to. I guess new routines still scare me some. And it looks like I’m going to have to create several of them in a row now: the home routine (which is: sleep till ten, spend my days in a mish of watching AmazingPhil and trying to clean, helping with swim occasionally, and counting down the days until Sam visits this side of the state), then the Skovsøen routine, then the Sjölunden routine, then neither of those for a few days, then a WHOLE NEW ROUTINE IN A WHOLE NEW COUNTRY…it’s daunting.

The other thing about it is that I keep thinking of my first breakup (stay with me here).

It involved the Freshman Boyfriend and me, of course, and the Freshman Boyfriend was moving to North Carolina and I was not.

Our original decision was to stay together and try a long distance relationship, with the intention of graduating early and reuniting thereafter. At least, I remember this decision being made. I can’t provide any proof of it though. And, through some sort of divine intervention, he decided to end it, saying as soon as I leave it’s over. Of course, we were so attached it proved rather impossible to detach immediately, so that process lasted well into the fall.

I’ve thought about it a long time since then and, as is true of every breakup I’ve ever been involved in, a bad reason for a good decision still amounts to a good decision. I am not entirely certain that he didn’t break up with me because suddenly North Carolina seemed a lot more exciting (though he did always act like he hated the idea, to be fair) than Idaho or I did. And that made me think of breaking up with people because you just don’t know if someone else might walk into your life while you’re in this new place, a thing I did consider, many times, while wondering about the projected two years between Freshman Boyfriend moving away and us graduating as quickly as we could.

And that made me think of Sam, unfortunately, and how scary, if small, a possibility it is that one or both of us will find other people over the next year.

One doesn’t find someone like Sam every day, and I highly doubt that people of his kind are prevalent in Sweden. So the likelihood that I will discover somebody I like better than Sam is low. Objectively. And to be fair, one doesn’t find someone like me every day either, and I rather doubt, even if it would be nice to be proved wrong, that there are terribly many people like me in Pocatello. So the likelihood that he will discover somebody he likes better than he likes me is also low. Objectively.

That doesn’t exactly allow for the fact that sometimes people are more exciting in person than they are when your only contact with them is digital.

Which scares me, and also makes me want to shake my fist at the universe for letting a sweet, goofy, conservative dreamboat drop out of the sky just when it would be most inconvenient to have a boyfriend. Damn it, universe, I had plenty of time my first two years, and there are some people-y mistakes it might have been a good idea to distract me from.

Anyway, there’s always the possibility, and I may or may not have lain awake till four a.m. freaking out about it, but I was being silly and sleepless. Joy cometh in the morning – and sometimes, at ten o’clock at night. Bless people who reassure you when you worry about nothing instead of telling you you’re crazy. Bless the hell out of those people.

In other news, I saw Hannah recently, too. And I was honest with her. And it felt good.

Everything is great.

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