My Gift To Myself

A little something, exactly 2 weeks before I take off.

Cold Feet

So, here's what I know: I leave for Paris in a little less than 3 weeks, and I feel as I imagine a soon-to-be bride or groom feels before their pending nuptials. Sure, I'm excited. Sure, I'm looking forward to this new experience that'll hopefully, God willing, add to my life for the better. But I am also terrified and in a constant state of paranoid denial. Some mornings, I awake in a sweaty, panting panic, and spend the remainder of the morning convincing myself that it isn't too late to withdraw from the program entirely.

And yet, as the day of departure looms closer, I am comforted by the fact that I am going to a beautiful city where it is still legal in some restaurants to smoke indoors. It can't be too bad then, right?