I can't believe I'm actually typing these words, but I'm finally going to see Mr. X this weekend.
(And, as luck would have it, I have a giant zit on my chin. Like, so big I could carve it, put a candle in it and have kids trick-or-treat at it.)
I'm feeling nervous and excited and worried and hopeful and guarded all at once. Sort of like I'm going to do this:
This could mean very good -- or very bad -- things for Cocktober.