I'm so worked up over the move. My heart is actually racing. You'd think I was scaling Everest or something by the amount of anxiety and stress and overthinking that's gone into moving a one-bedroom apartment. Jesus Beth, I keep telling myself, you used to move twice a year in college, what's the big deal?

Change is hard and downright yukky to deal with sometimes. I feel like I'm leaving the past eight years behind me, which is both wonderful/liberating/exciting and daunting/terrifying. It's a new beginning, a new opportunity and I find myself resistant and wanting to just stay in my bed in my same old apartment for another eight years. Why is that?

I just want the comfort of my things back. Note to self for the next move -- do NOT, for the love of God, DO NOT pack up your stuff a month early with the hopes of being "organized" and "proactive." You will miss your picture frames and your banana bread recipe from mom and your candles and your Kerouac books. Trust me on this one.