It is not often that I get to say, “Oh, I can’t go to the football game on Saturday. I’m flying to Atlanta for the weekend.”
(Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a big deal, but then I usually run into a door and it humbles me.)
But I am flying to Atlanta for the weekend for the National Youth Worker’s Convention.
I’m excited because a) I love to fly, b) I have never been to Atlanta, and most importantly, c) I love to learn more about youth ministry.
After work, I am going to Target to pick up the last of what I need for this weekend (read: travel-size bottles of Mousse, as that’s really the only thing I need). Then I’m going to try to tackle my insanely long list of things I still have to get done before tomorrow, like grade nineteen two-page papers (I am a TA for Public Speaking—remind me why I signed up for that again?). Then I’m going to bed. In my head, I’m going to bed at a decent hour, but that’s probably not how my evening will turn out.
Then I’m leaving for the airport at 5 AM tomorrow. Yeah, there’s a five o’clock in the AM, too. I know, I don’t know what for, either.
Also, as I am actually really against making lists of things you are looking for in a future husband, I have such a deep love for lists that I added a couple more things to the list I pretend like I’m not making but really am:
1. Must know what a Haiku is.
2. Must know who John Wesley was.
Those lovely items are added onto a list that already contains things like:
1. Must be able to grow an awesome beard (like Jesus, though I was recently told that Jesus might not have had a beard, which almost completely ruined my life).
2. Must be able to build a kitchen cabinet (which I’m actually flexible about whether or not my future husband will actually have this skill, but I’m pretty set on the beard thing).
Have a great Thursday, everyone.