Packin' it in

I think I have my bags packed.

Well, no, I don't. There are slacks and "man-pris" on the drying rack. There is a bathrobe hanging in the breeze, losing its dampness. My baggage is not yet gathered.

My fellow four dramaturgs and I have our final class in about an hour - Art & Architecture. After that, we will have the privilege of watching the Moscow Art Theatre School audition next years class. An omega, of sorts, and an alpha, of sorts.

It's not as dramatic as all that. There is no beginning or ending right now, just a pause - but it feels like a major one. It is a major one, and that is what gives me the willies. Over drinks last night, surrounded by Rachel, Megan, Nick, Chris, Annika, and Angela, I was sullen and thoughtful. A lot of doubts and regrets are running through my head - and all of the successes and fun I've had over the past 11 months are quietly sitting, somewhere, waiting to be re-discovered at some later date.

For now, I wait for spin cycles to finish; I hang things on racks; I sort, fold, sort again, and then put things in their tight little places.

The squeeze. That's what today is: the squeeze.