Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting. *Sigh* I don’t wait well.
It’s kinda like somebody telling you they’ve sent you a package in the mail.
For the first couple of weeks, you can be patient, because you know that it takes at least that long for the post office to process the package through all its checkpoints, deliver it to the postal centre nearest your town, process it again, and stick it on the Postie’s van. (In New Zealand the MailMan/Woman is called a Postie. And they ride bicycles. Unless they deliver packages, in which case they drive a van.)
But after that, the frustration and worry grows. Did the person remember to post it? Is it lost in the cavernous postal centre? Did it get delivered to the wrong country? Wrong address? What?
When you get to the three weeks point, it begins to feel like you’re in postage limbo.
And by about five weeks, all the excitement has gone and the actual arrival of the package is no longer as exciting as it was.
I think that’s going to happen here. Theoretically, it only takes one business day for a letter to go from one city to the next here in New Zealand. And my letters (yes, plural) should have been sent on my Monday. Actually, technically, one of the letters should have been sent a week ago, and the second on Monday.
So theoretically, we should be partying today. But no letters yet. *sigh*
The people in charge of the letters have given me verbal confirmation that I have, indeed, passed my course. (That’s what the party is about, you see.) But I wanna see it in writing. Because sometimes, things happen between verbal assurance and written assurance, you know?
And I want to write an absolutely fantastic partying post. With lots of pictures. And food. And celebrating. And dancing.
And now I’m worried that by the time my letters arrive, all of you watching and waiting with me will no longer be as excited. It will be a sad party. So now I’m sad.
I shouldn’t have said anything until the letter came. Bummer.
Can you pretend I didn’t do the other post?