I'm cursed because whenever I care about anything, I care A LOT. I turn occasional running into marathons. TV shows into obsessions. Crushes into restraining orders. Okay, not that last one.
So it's a bit sad that the USA is out of the World Cup. I'm more disappointed that I got a bitchin' USA soccer shirt and now I've gotta mothball it for the next 4 years. Until (Zeus willing) I turn 29. Twenty-freaking-nine. Mental.
I haven't even considered packing yet for my flight out to Poland Thursday. Speaking of Poland, the waiter at the restaurant last night was like "What kind of last name is that?" and I'm like "Polish." Then he had a decent story about his girlfriend being Polish and how he likes Krakow. Then I wowed him with my "going to Poland in 4 days" anecdote.
I've got a load to take care of at work this week. I've even been titled as "assistant" in an e-mail. Top of the corporate ladder, here I come.
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