Focusing on a single spot I spin, you, laughing as I turn and wobble in the wake of gravity. Suddenly your hands stop me; a flash; and I feel the world turn as I lean into the ground for support. You've never had so much fun falling. I'm anxious to leave this place. I walk in with a fresh nose to the air conditioner and crinkle my nose; step into the shower to find new hairs on the wall and feel closterphobic; go to bed at night and hear people cursing behind the building--but it really isn't all this that I'm dying to get away from. True, I'm counting down the *minutes* when I'll be free of my roommate, I'm more excited about my future roommates and the place of rest, if you will. I don't like living with barren walls but I've begun to strip them here because seeing them naked signals a soon departure and that gives me hope--motivation, even, to strive hard through the rest of the week. I'm so burnt out I could smoke holes through all my study guides. I sit down to focus and everyone around me is doing just the opposite; so I retreat the bedroom and unfortunately the bed is too inviting; two sentences through and I feel the book drop in my lap, my eyes too comfortable to open. A power nap will do me good. An ending will do me better. Almost there, almost there... Strangely enough, I'm not stressed out. At all. I mean, I'm nervous for my French exam, but that's it. I guess I'm just done with being stressed. I need a rest from it to know what it's like again. I'm not worried about the summer, about school or work; my hopes are too high and I know it. I suppose it won't be any different from others past; get done what needs to get done, get through work, enjoy every other moment. And it will be grander now, living in our new home. I look forward to long days reading in the den, listening to the waterfall and the piano play. I'm excited to be able to sit by the pool in the privacy of my own backyard; a luxury I've never had. I'm tickled about my room--the best view of the house--and how wonderful it's going to be. And the library, and the kitchen, and of course the den...Suddenly it's not just plans on a big rolled-up paper. Last Sunday, when we were laying on my parent's bed, mom made a good point. She asked me if i missed 91 lane. And to my own suprise, I said no. She smiled and said, "That's because home is where the heart is." I guess she's right. I guess that's why I'm so anxious to pack up and get back there, out to the middle of no where, where everything now resides. Carrie