Earlier this evening, while standing in Wal-Mart (which in and of itself is not an unusual situation), I was struck by an overwhelming urge to go back to my apartment and pack up everything. Considering the amount of effort that would be involved in such an endeavor and the hour at which the urge struck me, I managed to avoid doing precisely that, but still I'm left with the feeling that perhaps that urge wasn't so rash. I keep getting the feeling that I won't be living here for too much longer, and that I really need to go ahead and get everything ready for what is likely to be a bizarre rollercoaster of an experience.

And reading over these words, I think I'm going to go start packing some minor stuff up. You never know. My hunches have been right before. And I really hope this one is, too. I like Oxford, but I keep getting the feeling like it's not where I need to be any more.