OK, I'm going to admit it. It's 10:20am, and I am a bundle of cotton-picking nerves right now.
Excited nerves, not Oh My God I'm Going To Die nerves. Just nerves of going to a place unfamiliar, by myself, and where people read about my not-so clandestine little life.
Still, very excited. Am tying up a few loose ends at the office, before I go home and throw things with manically uncoordinated poise into a suitcase, charge the iPod and hope Third Roommate remembers to take me to the airport.
But in the interim, last night The Ant organised, with my dearest mates, to take me out for dinner for my birthday. Everyone arrived at my house and hurried me out to Cornuti's, where we drank wine and ate gorgeous Italian food with my favourite girls in the whole whole world: E, E2, N, C, L2, Klo, J2. And they all bought me dinner. The Ant, being her wonderful generous self, couldn't even make it after organising it, as she had to be in Cape Town the whole day. We toasted to her too, and she was sorely missed. Thanks my lovely for organising that and making me feel special.
Good God, tomorrow night at 11:30pm, I turn 26.
Mid-twenties, goodbye. Late-twenties, slower metabolism and wrinkles, hi.
Unless of course, if the rumours are true, I'm entering a very sexual phase of my life.
Bring. It. On.