Unless I have myself cremated, in which case I’m closer to… wherever I have my remains dumped. (Preferably not on my parents’ carpet.)
Being 35 doesn’t feel like a very special age, but at the moment, it does feels like the starting line to a very speedy race. I’ve got two online exams to take by 11:55 tonight, class tomorrow night, dinner with friends on Friday, a request/offer from a friend to help behind the scenes on a movie over the weekend, the rest of the week to prepare for and take another two online exams and then the final exam on Thursday the 27th, getting on a bus to Chicago at 12:05am on Friday, having fun at HalloweeM with a bunch of Mensa folks (See how they made that letter switch? Pretty clever, huh?), then coming home on Sunday just in time for arthroscopic knee surgery on Monday morning.
There are a lot of unknowns in there, mostly about whether I’ll be prepared for the exams and what (if anything) the surgeon will find when scoping my knee. I’ve played soccer a couple times since talking to the doc—he said it was one of my three options, so why not?—and I haven’t collapsed screaming in pain, so that’s been nice. I can also tell there’s something in the back that still doesn’t feel right, which is not so nice.
So yeah, that’s the next two weeks summed up in one long run-on sentence and I’m glad I could type it all out. Had I tried to say it instead, I might have run out of oxygen and been a lot less than one year closer to the grave.
