You decide that this is how it must feel to be stood up on a first date, and thank your lucky stars you were never chosen last for the (insert sport here) during recess in elementary school. You muse about how your life in Japan is like a series of blind dates - some more successful than others - and how hope-filled and humbling that can be.
You walk home, firing off a few text messages to Fred and Erin because you know they'll both sympathize and appreciate the humour of the situation.
You throw together a colourful coleslaw salad and cheesey rosemary pizza, mix a glass of "pop" (pineapple juice and soda water) like mom used to when you were little, and devour everything while watching an especially witty episode of "How I Met Your Mother."
You ignore the doorbell. You feel a bit guilty, but you're not expecting anyone and you don't feel like entertaining company. Whoever it is will understand...
You consider the cornucopia of possible ways to fill your remaining hour or so of waking week-end as the spring wind continues to howl outside your sliding balcony doors.
You thank God for your crazy hair, your full belly, your friends and family the world over.
You realize that, this time next week, you will be in Korea, and that, in a little over three months, you will be home for a visit.
You wonder where the time goes, and are grateful to the forgetful teacher (or your miscommunication - you'll find out at school tomorrow) for this evening's unexpected gift.
You ignore the doorbell. You feel a bit guilty, but you're not expecting anyone and you don't feel like entertaining company. Whoever it is will understand...
You consider the cornucopia of possible ways to fill your remaining hour or so of waking week-end as the spring wind continues to howl outside your sliding balcony doors.
You thank God for your crazy hair, your full belly, your friends and family the world over.
You realize that, this time next week, you will be in Korea, and that, in a little over three months, you will be home for a visit.
You wonder where the time goes, and are grateful to the forgetful teacher (or your miscommunication - you'll find out at school tomorrow) for this evening's unexpected gift.
