While I love Manchester, I'm not so keen on living there. And I especially wasn't keen on living in Halls.
So when my Dad offered to drive me back to South Yorkshire at the end of this week, allowing me to spend a week at home with my family before I move into mine and Sam's new flat in Sheffield (6 more sleeps til I get my key!), I jumped at the chance.
So on Sunday I found out I'd be moving home on Friday (today).
Then on Monday I found out I'd actually be moving home on Thursday (fair enough).
Then an unexpected phone call came Wednesday lunchtime (before I'd even started packing) - "They want me to work tomorrow, so I'm coming for you tonight."
So I had a frantic day of packing, organising, cleaning, (which followed) washing, and shopping. Ow.
Now, my life is in boxes and bags, and I'm still nowhere near organised enough to be in the right mood to crack on with my work (not ideal when there's a draft due on Monday!).
But I don't care. I'm home. I'm surrounded by the seemingly endless fields of (semi-) rural South Yorkshire, and, more importantly, by wonderful people.
Sam might (hopefully. Fingers crossed!) be travelling down next week ready to move in at the weekend, and then I really will have all I need.
And, at some point, I might even get some work done. Good times.