A cliche title, but I feel like my emotions are somewhat cliche at the moment - or at least to be expected. For weeks people have been asking if I'm excited to go; and for weeks I've been restraining myself from really considering the answer to that question.
At least I haven't focused on the negative TOO much, which is a plus for pessimistic, realistic me. But I hadn't let myself sink into the world of excitement either. Afterall, we still have class. Tomorrow. I had to finish the semester, but now that it's nearly over, my bags are packed (just two more sweaters to squeeze in after I pick them up from the sweater-mending-lady in the market tomorrow afternoon), my tickets printed, and my game plan for the next 24 hours written out in extreme detail so I can't possibly forget anything (hah. as long as it's not my passport...)
And suddenly now my stomach is doing flip flops, dancing like Buddy the Elf on the mailroom table, halfway because I'm learning to hate flying, halfway because I'm so flipping excited to see J, and halfway because I know I have an excruciating day and a half left to endure before I get to be on that plane to DC.
DC will be good. I have to go into this believing that. Yes, I'll get bored sometimes; yes, he'll be busier than either of us wants; yes, we'll finally find something to fight about. BUT it will all be worth it, and we'll come away from it stronger and more committed and more in tune with each other, ready to face the next 4 months of distance.
Um, not to mention... 7 weeks together!? Are you kidding me?! It's gonna be freaking awesome!
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