Don’t worry, Geoff. I do, too. Everything. Well, except those chicken tacos, those were delicious.

So I recently finished writing the chapter that follows this one, and came to an uneasy realization. I know what I’m doing next year. Indeed, I know what I’m doing for roughly the first quarter of next year. It’s a lot like being psychic, except you did a bunch of, y’know work. It’s kind of an weird feeling.

I’ve got the nagging suspicion that this is what being an adult must feel like.  Strange. You’d think they’d warn you about this in school or something. “Someday, you will be an incredibly tedious and predictable person. That is normal. A dreadful testament to your inability to be spontaneous, interesting, or fun, mind you, but completely normal.”

Although this does mean I get to say I’m “booked” for the “foreseeable future,” which means nothing but is a pretty cool-sounding thing you can annoy people with. And I’m so into that.