A date with destiny.
Or despair. Depression. Dementia.
On of those.
That date is July 7.
That is eleven weeks from yesterday.
That is the day I will take my final language exam, the day that I will find out if I get that all important 3/3, if I get to go to post without a language waiver (or if I have to extend in training, thereby making my teacher, who would like to have a vacation too, HATE me). Also the date that I learn if I will be getting language incentive pay. Which I will need to offset the locality pay cut I will take to go overseas.
Thankfully the LTS and other training gods smiled on me and set my test for 2 pm. They had at first suggested it start at 7:30 AM(!), which is a recipe for failure. I don't do mornings.
Of course, this news could not have come at a better time (insert sarcasm here). Right while I am hitting another "Oh my god I am stupid" phase.
My teacher assures me it is actually because I have improved so much that I want to be able to say more and in more complicated ways.
She could be right...or I could just be getting stupid again. It happens in language training.
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