Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. I’ll just do it and get it over with.
I can do this and they will really appreciate it (or not), but that’s OK, I don’t mind.
It’s easier for me to do this than the resistance I will have to deal with if I say no.
I had a great summer. Long walks on the beach, sunrises over the ocean, meals prepared by someone else and served to me poolside. Aaaah. I feel relaxed, rejuvenated and ready to go.
Which is a problem.
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I’m not sure when being called nice became an insult. It certainly wasn’t when I was growing up in my hometown of Montreal, Canada. Nice wasn’t even an aspiration. It was more of a bodily function, like breathing.
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Bittersweet too small a word for when fierce pride and immeasurable joy crash into inconsolable sadness. But it’s all I’ve got for now. Congratulations, Graduates.