In a day, I’ll be
on the East Coast.
I know that’s how I
should start this blog, and my brain
says that that really is how I want to start this blog, but my heart tells me
to start with this: In a day, I’ll be on the East Coast! With my COHORT! It’s gonna be TOTALLY AWESOME! AAAAAHHHH! *Insert dance party here.*
I guess you could
say I’m excited.
I’ve spent a lot of
the week cramming in random activities to do with friends and family: I have
seen a play, watched a movie, gone rock climbing, played volleyball, and eaten
ice cream (my friend Chloe and I had planned an ice cream party on the day we
got back our SAT scores so that we could either celebrate our intelligence or
mourn the loss of our brains). I’ve been busy with all this, so haven’t been
able to spend all of my time worrying
about the trip—but, of course, I have spent a large portion of my time worrying
about the trip. For example, I took the time to plug most of the itinerary into
my phone’s calendar, which was a bit unnecessary, but hey, it was either that
or fret more.
Last night, I
gathered most of the stuff I’ll be bringing with me, but my mom did most of the
actual packing into the suitcase while I watched what was placed where and
checked it off, making notes on a list with a cold (and almost murderous)
efficiency. I may have scared my mom a bit. The ILC gives us a 42-pound weight
limit so we’re absolutely sure that our bags aren’t overweight (obesity in ILC baggage is a serious issue), and fortunately,
my bag is four pounds under the limit, so I shouldn’t have anything to worry
about.
I’m less than twelve
hours away from seeing Don, Mr. Hillyer, and my cohort (and the Vanderbilt
group; we’ll be traveling to the airport together) at my high school. At 3:50
AM.
Oh, goodie.
Until then, I’ll be
worrying about what time I’d like to go to sleep…if I can contain my joy and calm
myself down enough to sleep at all. I feel like I’m inches away from the start
of an outstanding experience, and I’m holding my breath until it starts.
I couldn’t tell from the photo whether your stuff was laid out ready to be packed or if maybe that’s what your room looks like. I still can’t tell.
ReplyDeleteBut being a guy what I’m seeing looks like home to me.