in which reality comes crashing down on my dream life

After three beautiful weeks, I am home from my big European adventure.

It was an amazing experience in so many ways. I learned a lot, including the fact that although I love my family, I will never travel with any of them again.

Ever.

Just… no.

I’m thinking that I could probably get a decently funny novel detailing what it’s like to travel with a group of 17 with ages ranging from 13-80. But only because it’s one of those situations where you look back and see the humour in your wanting to kill everyone at the time.

Being on a cruise was kind of amazing, and I never thought I’d ever look at people and say “I miss having someone to put my napkin on my lap,” but I do. Or I miss what it represents. I don’t even put napkins on my lap, usually. But having someone to tend on your every need for 12 straight days was kind of crazy. I miss my nightly ritual of popcorn and lemonade, and watching the stars.

Or movies under the stars.

 And on days when we weren’t in port, there was nothing to do but relax, and sunburn the day away.

Not a bad way to spend a couple of days. Though tending to the massive sunburn was a bad way to spend the following week.

I will say one thing though. Whoever says that you can’t even tell you’re on the water when you’re on a cruise ship is a God damn liar.

I saw some amazing things in Europe, and took literally thousands of pictures. I wish I could share them all, but that would be a stupidly long and probably unpublishable blog entry. (Also, a lot of the pictures that I took were of food, because I promised Liam and Grant – who were insanely jealous of the wonderful local cuisine I would be eating – that they could live vicariously through me.)

For those wondering about my accidental stalking of Jamie Cullum, I did find his stomping grounds, and ate at one of his favourite restaurants where the waitress told me that he is the loveliest of men and eats there all the time, lives around the corner and that his brother was to dj at the restaurant that Saturday – two days after I left. So my dream of meeting the person I admire most in the world lives on. For the second time I was so close, yet so far.

All in all, the trip was beyond awesome and I can’t wait to go back to most of the places I visited.

I’m comin’ back for ya, Athens. In all your windy glory.

But now, I’m back home and reality has come rolling back in. I started my new job at a bookstore four days after I got home, and six days after I got home my best friend moved across the country. The girl who has ben like a sister to me for years is now 6,778 kilometers away from me (by car, if you ask Google maps).

That’s a long freaking way.

That’s a lot of space to be sitting between myself and someone who I’m used to having over daily to watch crap tv and drink stupid drinks with. Or to carting off to the grocery store at 3 in the morning with, searching for snowstorm supplies (ie cupcake ingredients). Or just being there. Or not even being together, but knowing that we could be in a moment’s notice if need be.

I didn’t really know it was happening until the second I watched her car door close. And for the past couple of days, I’ve been left with one resounding question.

What the hell do I do now?

I’ve never considered the fact that being an adult means not being with my best friend.

Yep. Adults.

Reality, you’re a bitch.