It turns out that my tolerance for Oxford after finishing my job, saying goodbye to all my friends, and putting David on a bus to Heathrow is approximately ninety minutes. I made a gigantic loop around the city for packing tape, my last paycheck, and approximately six vegetables, then deposited all of my uncashed checks at my bank, dropped off my ethics forms and a library-ready version of my thesis at my department, and bought a blank scrapbook, and then sat in my room all afternoon pasting ticket stubs in a scrapbook while half-watching Empire Records on my laptop. It took very little time before I was like, "yep, ready to peace out on Wednesday." And then I packed up all my stuff to put it into storage, to the point where I'm deliberately not packing my suitcases because then my room will look actually depressing.
So basically, Oxford is weird without the people, and I think Oxford and I can part on good terms for a while.