Like PMS, but not

I am preparing to go home. I sent one package back to America on Monday, and I'm preparing a second one now (yes, on the eve of Thanksgiving). I am relatively healthy- the fever is gone and so is the pain. The symptoms of a light cold have taken their place, but they are familiar and unthreatening. What is foreign is this melancholy. Perhaps I felt this way before I left Brighton, but that is unlikely. It was only England, which still isn't fully foreign, no matter how weirdly the natives curse and dance. As Amy wisely pointed out, part of my life is ending. My Russian will never be this good again, and learning Stranian probably won't be an option. Two years of a quiet schoolmarm's life will be over (and I'm mourning this? but it's true). Finding good organic produce will be hard. No one will worry when I sneeze or cough, nor will anyone object to opening the window of a moving vehicle for fear of the draft. It may seem that I'm only listing the benefits, but this is hard. [Ed: Do you think I will not bat an eye after landing in JFK and eating my way through Chinatown? This also seems plausible.]

I will not be downhearted. Here is a video that 100% looks like my life here in Strana.