Only 20 hours awake before I leave for France. Usually I like counting "hours awake" because it makes things seem a lot sooner, even more so if I tell myself I'll sleep 12 hours a night, but right now it's really scaring me. And this is with a regular amount of sleep planned.
I went to the bank and got Euros today. Not sure if I'm supposed to say "some Euro" or "euro dollars" or "Euro" or "some euro money" and all the teller did to clarify was give me five new options for how to say it.
This week feels like skydiving. Like you always wanted to go skydiving, and you found a good weekend to do it and bought tickets, and went up in the plane, but this week is like the seconds before you jump, when you're sick to your stomach and thinking "I was insane to ever think this was a good idea."
In a few days I'll be soaring happily over the city, or I'll be crashing into a tree because all I can say in French is "I like baguettes" and someone steals my brand-new "Euros currency" from me at gunpoint.