soldtoarmenians

Xander's really packing, this time, not just trying not to and failing. He doesn't want to, but the more he gets squared away now, the more time he'll have left to be with people, instead of doing this. And it's... going. Not well, but it's going. The only problem is he doesn't have enough suitcases, and they aren't nearly big enough, or maybe just not the right kind.

( Cut for packing woe )

Some things *cough*, he can carry in his head, of course, even if he didn't get a picture. Thing is, the thing is that ... he's going to have to carry all of what matters most in his head.

Because there's no room in his luggage for the whole damned island, or even a miniature giraffe no matter how weetiny he is, and the one thing Xander would leave everything behind for if he could make it fit...

Well.

Stupid Samsonite.

[For Bridge.]

{Linky, summary, already happened, 99 bottles of heard this before on the wall...}
___

Art History was mildly traumatizing interesting, today, despite the presence of actual work-like stuff.

Later at the Club Fair, Xander noticed a new group for people from weird hometowns, and figured what the hell. He also signed up (again) for I-Club, and picked up those vamp-related posters from Parker that they'd talked about at yesterday's meeting.

Afterwards, he headed into town to put some up.