It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
This week, that is. Actually, the next three weeks. Actually, all of the weeks leading up to our wedding. I do not get a real break until June 27th.
I am bracing myself, gripping the keyboard of my laptop with my fingertips, pausing my typing to stare hopelessly at the theory paper that has less than a third of the words it needs to have by Thursday.
And once again I wonder why I do this to myself every year. Why the sleepless nights, why the caffeination, why the tears and the agony?
This is not how I want to spend my last week of being 22.
But that’s how I’ll spend it.
And I’ll get to the end of the week and think, “Wow, that went better than I thought.”
But the beginning and the middle will be awful.