We need to talk.

Sorry.

My dad pointed something out to me today. And that is that I have been grumpy lately. And I hope I haven't been obnoxious to my friends (or to you, dear blog), but I know I have been to my family.

And I'm basically okay with that, as terrible as it sounds.

I'm not pleased with them right now.

The problem, I've decided, is that our stress-coping-mechanisms are incompatible. Specifically mine and my mother's.

I like to do things on my own. I like to look at the big picture, and not get wrapped up in details that aren't important. I am also a master of denial. I have been determined to keep my life semi-normal until I am actually on the airplane to Switzerland.

Mom, on the other hand, likes to plan in advance. It gives her a sense of control, I suppose. She likes details. A lot. And I also suspect that she, like most people, likes to feel like she's doing something important. So she's pretty wrapped up up in the planning of minute details like they're the end-all-be-all.

Basically, I'm up here in my room going through my bookcase, reading my old notebooks, going about my life, and she's downstairs doing insane things that don't matter. Like packing half-used rolls of scotch tape. What the heck. They have scotch tape in Switzerland.

(My general strategy in terms of packing is, Bring what matters to me. Bring the essentials. Hers is OH MY GOD! THIS HOUSE HAS THINGS IN IT! I HAVE TO PUT THEM IN A BOX!)

And now Mom and Dad are putting together the swearing-in invite list, and wondering who to invite and who's in town and it all just seems like such unimportant bullshit.

Once I get to Switzerland I'll be happier.

But I know that a lot of "public diplomacy" is dinner parties, which kind of necessitates unimportant bullshit.

I'm not a fan.

SO that's why I'm grumpy. I am irritated by my parents, and I am irritated by how little my mom knows about me and how I work and how I do things, and how important she thinks her job is. Packing is going to get done. With or without her crazy stress.

And I think my dad understands my mannerisms a little better, but that doesn't mean he can do anything about it. He's busy anyway. Understandably.

I've decided to like Switzerland.

But I have no obligation to be cheerful during the dismantle-your-life period. None at all.

Sorry.

Love always,
Clara

P.S. If either of my parents read this, which I know they do occasionally, hello. I see you there. And I don't take it back.