Feeling: tense
Listening to: fluorescent buzz
Reading/Watching: --

I just have to make it to April. That's all there is to it.

April 1st is the day after our choir goes to contest. I intend to take the day off so that I can finally move into my new place. That first weekend, I'll have my family come to help me move the big things. The thought of spending the day with them, even if it's full of nothing more than straining muscles, grunting noises, and discussions of how to angle the couch, seems like an oasis. I've been in closer contact with my parents and especially my sister in these past few months than I have for years.

April is nothing but 4-day weeks. We have a day off to end the grading period, Easter weekend (which is actually four days long, and I haven't decided how I want to spend it), and then I'm taking a day to drive up for my brother's wedding, and in the final week we get a Friday off for the local drunken craziness of a cultural festival in Schoolville.

The very, very last week of April, the one that ends in May 1st, does in fact last for five full days, but I'm sure I can survive that. April is going to fly, and I am going to let it. Because April signifies that (professionally, at least) the worst is over.

I slept last night in fits and starts, even though the concert went without a hitch, commencing at 5:05 and wrapping up smartly when I thanked everyone for coming and reminded them of upcoming events at 5:30 (yes, it was short). I went to bed, but woke four times to stare at the clock, and tension threaded its way through my bones like someone making a wicker chair. By the time I gave up on sleeping at 6 a.m. I could barely move.

But it's seven days away. Four days of teaching, a weekend, a day, another day of contest, and then the 1st. I can handle that. I am very ready for the worst to be over.

P.S.- I'll just say it. I am so scared. I know he'll read this and twist into into another reason why I should stay with him, but I don't care. I am scared. I am scared about starting over. I am scared I blew my shot by marrying the wrong person and throwing away any and all opportunities for the life I wanted. I am scared because of Bridget Jones's Diary. I am scared because of Carrie Fisher turning to Logan Bruno in When Harry Met Sally and saying, "Tell me I'll never have to be out there again." I am scared because I was single for twenty years, and it sucked. Maybe I will, indeed, be the Undateable Teen Nun forever, just dwindling into thirty, then forty, then fifty without a ripple of change. But maybe that's better than being his wife.

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