When just about everyone who knows you both via work and socially asks, "So, I guess you're going kayaking this weekend, hunh?" It probably means you've been doing the equivalent of a 6-year-old's I-need-to-pee-pee dance in anticipation of that first boat plop into the water.
And for the record, yes, I plan to go kayaking on Sunday. The whether is going to be in the 80s and I'm going to be taking advantage.
(Oh my God, the 80s, in April, in New England! That shit's just wrong!)
And yes, I did buy my season kayaking rental pass as soon as I heard about the fabulousness of the weather this weekend.
*hangs head in shame*
I am weak like veal. Weak, I tell you. On the upside, I paid cash for it.
It probably helps that I'm in a fabulous mood right now. I've been killing patients all week. Okay, I've been putting 12-hour days all week in the name of good writing so I can kill the patients in a medically accurate way, but you know what?
I've been killing patients all week because it's part of my fabu writing job!
And I don't have to put up any warning about it at all! (Beware! OC death!)
In fact, I can be all, "BWAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! Little does Marge know, she's got a BIG UGLY FATAL DISEASE lurking in her immediate future and she's gonna DIE, DIE, DIE! Because I (and the client) DECLARE IT SO!" And no one can complain that I didn't warn them!
There are days I really, really love my job.
Because I'm evil like that.