He Had The Best Package Ever

I awoke at the university student appropriate hour of 2:15 this afternoon. I'm not quite sure what did me in. It might have been the copious amounts of non-alcoholic beer consumed last night (all those bubbles went right to my head) or it could have been the late night rowdiness with my flatmates that ended in a rousing game of "post-its". Maybe it was the stress of dropping a reel of film at my internship, you know, middle part first (talk about a feeling of helplessness, it just... keeps... spiraling, down down down. I'll not make the obvious metaphor).

Whatever it may have been, I now find myself with a raging headache and a rather cagey emotional state. However, my crankiness is slightly assuaged by the receipt of a glorious package from home. As one can probably imagine, packages have taken on the significance of a shipment of chocolate and cigarettes for soldiers in the trenches. In my head, it's all very Anne Bancroft in 84 Charing Cross Road...but wait, as the recipient, that would make me Anthony Hopkins. Ugh, I am undone by my own concoction.

The package in question was sent by my incomparable pal, Captain Leche (Leche like the Spanish for milk, except I seem unable to make that little accent mark over the second e). Leche is the saintly creature who is caring for my four-legged creature, Plum, in my absence. The Captain knows a thing or two about packages and the packing of them. He very thoughtfully enclosed the annoying packing peanuts in a zip lock bag. There was no explosion of feathery green styrofoam upon ripping into the box. He sent my favorite summer hat, to remind me that in spite of the greyness and spitting rain of Dublin there is a summer, summerwhere. He enclosed little packages of "do not eat" silica gel so that moisture would be absorbed, therefore not getting my microwave popcorn packages and tea bags ( all individually wrapped and bagged) all mouldy. He even tied up my mail with a big red ribbon, making it seems like a stack of love letters, instead of what it really is, evil reminders that I still owe loads of cash to various financial institutions. He even sent me a zip lock bag of Plum's fur, which is both sweet and kind of repellent. (That bit I meant to tack up on my cork board right next to the bag of my dad's ashes, but then I realized I couldn't find my dad's ashes. I think I lost my dad...well, he couldn't have gone far. HA!)

Captain Leche is the best.

Of course, in writing this ode, I do not in any way wish to alienated those other friends who have been kind enough to send along such varied items as squirrel statuettes and beautiful photos of their newborn children. All are welcome at the door of your overseas student blogger.