I am sick of getting ready to leave.

Pack. Drive. Pack. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. "Breanne, will you go through these boxes?" "Here's the plan for the next month....no, wait, I changed it..." "When am I going to see you before you go?" More goodbyes. Homework. "Aw, honey, you're going to California..." And more guilt trip. "It's costing an awful lot of money." "Make sure you go see so-and-so before you leave, even though you haven't talked to them since you started college." More goodbyes. Big hole in heart. Organize. "Do these go in the attic or in the yard sale?" Anticipation. Anticipation. "Stop slamming that door."

I'm having a hard time keeping my aggravation under control on my last weekend at home. It didn't help that the second we were all in the room together after I walked in, my parents started spurting at each other about their plans to come to California a week after we go. If you get the adults involved, they always make it complicated. I shouldn't have agreed to their travel plans in the first place.

It's time to go.