Jeune et conne

That's how you feel when you spend more time packing than actually living.

And yet, you realise how useful all that late-night packing for the burgh was, with dad standing at the door like a lieutenant going:

"Dana, focus, it's really important that you don't forget anything. Do you have:

- your passport
- any other documents you may need
- money
- keys
- tickets
- phone
- charger
- a piece of paper and a pen (never trust technology, it'll let you down when you need it the most)
- toothbrush
- toothpaste
- deodorant
- pijamas
- a bottle of water
- knickers
- socks
..."

Yes, dad. I even remembered to take four Allen keys with me in case my faithful companion needed fixed, a banana and today's LeMonde (which I obviously haven't read yet), as well as an extra pair of trousers, should I accidentally spill beer/hot chocolate on myself. That's what I call growing up. No, mum, sorry, but I refuse to iron my clothes. That's what I call being jeune et conne :)