It’s my last day of work. My plane leaves in about 40 hours, and I’ve more or less accepted that no catastrophic bike accident will prevent my being on board; I’m going. I’d have thought I’d be giddy at this point, and I am, intermittently. But I’m mostly impatient. I’ve thought as much as I can about this thing I can’t properly imagine (I should probably have looked at a guide book by now.) I’m also a lot less sanguine about the condition of my body than I was at the beginning of the week; at the gym on Wednesday, after less than twenty minutes of drills, the muscles in my upper arms were drum tight and burning hot; they felt so weak on my bike ride home home it was hard to support my own weight. I probably should have jumped rope beforehand, or something.
It’s 4:06. There are a lot of things I need to do before I can leave work, and then a lot of things I need to do before I can go home, and on like that. My office keeps getting interrupted by quick little flashes of Thailand; they’re not exactly images, though, because I don’t know what Thailand looks like.