It rather seems that the weekends are getting shorter. Maybe it's excitement about starting work tomorrow that has shortened this weeked, maybe it's the fact that the nights are drawing in and it's now dark at 8.30pm (in Cambridge at least), or maybe it's the fact that yesterday was spent clearing my flat and dashing round town looking for a door stop before popping to the cinema to see The Simpsons Movie. Whichever it is, this weekend has gone very quickly indeed.
I was supposed to spend it getting my flat tidier so that it's a bit more bearable when I come home from work. I was supposed to be preparing myself for starting work.
I don't feel in the least bit prepared. I'm a bit nervous, but not scared. I feel like I should have done more, but I don't know what more I can do (I've printed off and filled in a P46; my contract, etc., was signed and sent back in January). I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. I can't wait to start, but I don't feel ready. Would I ever feel ready?
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, as the cliché goes. And yet, it doesn't seem real somehow. I could almost forget to go into work tomorrow, as it feels like it is the same as every other day I've spent here in my flat. But I know I won't, because when I wake up, I'll be feeling better about it.
I guess it's nerves, and that sleeping on it will help. Only a few hours until I do that. In the meantime, I'll kill time with more clearing, a bit of bassoon practice, some more 24, Day 1, and maybe a spot of cleaning too... Who knows?