As most of my lovely readers know by now, a few weeks ago I was accepted to graduate school. I didn't share all the gory details of the process of applying to my program here on the blog, but let me assure you it wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done. There were entrance exams, essays, and the final hurtle a group interview. For an introvert like me, just the idea of a group interview and the competition that could (and likely would) ensue was enough to send me running for the hills! So it was with great relief that I successfully completed my interview and even felt I'd not made a complete fool of myself in the process.
After the interview I was told I'd get a call or email within 7 to 10 days letting me know whether I'd made it into the program. This was the week before Thanksgiving. My interview was on that Tuesday, so I figured maybe I'd find out by the following Monday. I tried not to think about it and happily distracted myself with work, kids, laundry, etc. On Thursday after work I opened up the computer to check my email and saw much to my surprise and delight that I'd officially been accepted! Honestly I didn't even have time to fully enjoy or process the news because the kids were fighting about something, and someone needed to go somewhere, and dinner, and .....there was no absorption of the news.
*here is where the cautionary tale begins...hold tight!
I decided as a way of celebrating I'd pour myself a big old glass of wine while I started dinner. Mr. Veen came home, we ate, and I continued to top off my glass of wine. After all - this was BIG NEWS!! Something needed to happen to acknowledge it, even if it was just an extra glass of wine. When dinner was all cleaned up I thought I might dredge up some chocolate and continue my merriment on the couch, however Mr. Veen had another plan. You see, thanks to moi, Mr. Veen and I have taken up jogging in the evenings.
Unfortunately, that was our night to jog. Unfortunately, Mr. Veen has some serious will power and abilities to shame and guilt. Unfortunately, it was dark and raining. And most unfortunately of all, I'd had two big glasses of wine!
Within five minutes of our jog I stumbled and fell flat on my face.
Big ouch, big tears, big explosion of the days pent up emotions all over the dark, wet, drunk sidewalk. I felt like there surely was blood spurting out of my face, hands and knees. I limped my way back home (which wasn't that far) and discovered much to my chagrin that I barely had a scratch on me.
Mr. Veen said he was going back out to finish his jog. I, (being not competitive or stubborn at all) said I would join him.
Two minutes later I stumbled and nearly fell again.
The moral to this story is simple. Whatever you do - please don't drink and jog.