In 9 hours, my fate is sealed. Okay, so my results are the same now as they will be tomorrow. But tomorrow I will know. And it doesn’t help that today was the longest freaking day of all time. It’s my own fault. My hips hurt so I never went for my run, and I substituted by first playing the balls off the piano (good idea) and then nomming the house out of ice-cream, ryvita and cheese. (Not at the same time. I’m not that bad.) I then flopped onto the couch, unable to move or do anything besides gawk at repeats of Project Runway. I have learnt my lesson. Except I haven’t and then eat two servings of dinner. (Epic chicken soup. How will I survive without my Daddy’s dinners?)
So here’s the deal. I am not afraid of failing. I am confident enough that I haven’t and will even go so far as to know that I will be pretty pissed if I don’t break 500. (I am aware that sounds really condescending but I worked my ass off. It would seem a waste otherwise.) But the anticipation is killing me. I want to know if I need to move house, learn to live with strangers, constantly cook for myself, and most importantly, buy a hair straightener. (One of the upsides of Limerick would be the continuing access to my sister’s clothes and hair supplies 😀 ) I’ve been counting down the hours since yesterday.
My friend has just informed me that our school isn’t releasing the results til 10?! What the juice… Just longer to wait.