Update

Second day home, still no suitcases. Mum and I are headed to the Fargo airport to retrieve them....if they ever get there.

I had a nightmare last night. Not a common occurrence for me. Basically, the dream was about having to write the final 4,000 word essay over again....with a three hour deadline. And it was a totally different topic and for some reason I just couldn't get myself to sit down and write. I woke up with a feeling of panic and inadequacy, two internalizations I thankfully did not experience during term.

It is so strange that I am not burned out at the end of the semester. Usually, I crash for a week or two and do nothing but watch movies and stupid TV shows. This time is totally different. I've decided to study more George Eliot since I have read only one of her novels and desperately want to read the rest. I won a copy of Middlemarch at Freshers fair back in September and, despite its Victorian-novel obesity, I managed to pack it. I am reading The Mill on the Floss at the same time, and I plan on listening to Daniel Deronda on librivox.

Since being home, I have enjoyed listening to lots of Christmas music, eating too many sweets, and imagining myself walking through Oxford's streets. I have learned the definition of an "Anglophile"-- a person who is fond of English culture and England in general. I didn't realize that I was an Anglophile until I left England. I think a large factor of it is the discovery that Minnesota and I are not fully compatible. It has a brutal climate and a large population of insects that either annoy or scare me. The things I like about my home state are being rapidly outnumbered by the things that I don't or have outgrown. There were so many things about England that exactly suited my tastes. I was so comfortable there, and I didn't look forward to returning to St. Paul. Minnesota's January and February never cease to make me broody and restless. I will miss the liberation of relying on walking as my main mode of transportation, something neither practical or practicable in a place with a deadly winter climate.

But, there is swing dancing in the Twin Cities, so Minnesota is not all bad. I am really, really excited for the moment when someone asks me, "So, where did you learn to Lindy Hop?" and I get to say, "Oh, in Oxford." It's gonna be fun.