I embark on my epic Europe trip tomorrow, and I have not really started packing. Packing is becoming SUCH a chore, I really hate it. And you would think that after 2 years of jet-setting lifestyle I would finally get it. But no.
I wish I could just employ a house elf to do all my packing for me. Like, snap a finger and a Dobby equivalent would come running and fold all my clothes. Said house elf must also have good fashion sense so he could tell me how to mix & match my clothes. Like a walking polyvore, you know.
So. This trip. First, I will be in Athens for 2.5 days, Heidelberg for 2.5 days, both for work. After that, we start our grand rail travel, first from Frankfurt to Paris, and then to Switzerland (Lauterbrunnen & Luzern), and then do the Bernina Express across the Alps, and then to Milan, before flying back to Frankfurt & then Singapore. The next day, we fly to Bali for 4 days. It was supposedly for a friend’s wedding. No wedding in the end, but we already got our tickets.
I will refrain from being dramatic (God knows I’m good at that). But really, such is the volatility of love. Nay?
I realised that I really love to rant. Nothing fuels me like a good conversation does. But with my significant other, I seem to lose all ability to rant. Why is that so? It’s like I’m living in two parallel universe. In one, I exist and collect thoughts, I tip toe on the edge & I try to be good. In the darker reality, I purge them out in a series of cathartic episodes. Life seems so confusing sometimes. I wonder if I am just too complicated for you.