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For me, the title of this post may as well be another phrase for "Weekend Involving Self-Torture and Mental Anguish."
Alright, maybe that's a little dramatic. It is an occupational hazard, after all.
So let me back up. Sometime last week, the date was announced for my twenty year reunion. Ever since then, my former classmates have been replying with "Can't wait!" and "So excited!"
My knee jerk response is somewhere along the lines of, "Cautiously Anxious!" and "Fearfully Apprehensive!" with the occasional, "Oh, HELL, no!" My ten year reunion was patentedly NOT fun. Though my being eight weeks pregnant and wanting to throw up every two seconds might have put a damper on the festivities, somewhat. But twenty? How could it be more fun? (Except for the being pregnant part. That won't be an issue. Any nausea I feel will be from crappy early nineties pseudo-music.)
Come on, folks. I cannot be the only one who feels this way.
( The good old days? No. Not really. )
Alright, maybe that's a little dramatic. It is an occupational hazard, after all.
So let me back up. Sometime last week, the date was announced for my twenty year reunion. Ever since then, my former classmates have been replying with "Can't wait!" and "So excited!"
My knee jerk response is somewhere along the lines of, "Cautiously Anxious!" and "Fearfully Apprehensive!" with the occasional, "Oh, HELL, no!" My ten year reunion was patentedly NOT fun. Though my being eight weeks pregnant and wanting to throw up every two seconds might have put a damper on the festivities, somewhat. But twenty? How could it be more fun? (Except for the being pregnant part. That won't be an issue. Any nausea I feel will be from crappy early nineties pseudo-music.)
Come on, folks. I cannot be the only one who feels this way.
( The good old days? No. Not really. )
