What time does your flight leave?
Who’s taking you to the airport?
Are you excited?
All questions people ask me during the days before I depart on my next big adventure.
I don’t know.
That’s generally my answer. “I don’t know.” I know the day but not the time. No one has volunteered nor have I asked anyone. Excitement? Excitement is relative. If you mean “looking forward to,” then sure. But butterflies in the stomack, the nervous, rhythmic bouncing of the knee, the inability to sit still … if that’s what you mean … then, no, I’m not excited.
To borrow the words from Mark Driscoll in his Confessions:
I sleep like a Calvinist.