Preparation

Yesterday I woke late, hazy trying to shake off a cold, the Ny-quill from the previous night, and the fact that I forgot my coffee at home. I got to class as my professor was shutting the door. I opened my notebook and wrote "Tuesday, January 18th" at the top of the page. I had no idea what date it was, and I wasn't about to dig through the pockets of my giant coat to find my phone to confirm it was or wasn't the date I had assumed. Instead, I looked at the heading of notebook that belonged to the girl sitting next to me. She had written "Tuesday, January 19th". This was one of those instances that takes me back to middle school, one where I would enter a test unprepared, knowing that I would be cheating that day. I scratched out the original date at the top of my paper and replaced it with what I could only assume was the correct date based on my record for the day.

All day I purposely didn't check the date. There was part of me that was hoping that she was wrong, and by chance I was right. I only wanted to be right to confirm my ideas about going with my gut-instincts. I wanted it to be a lesson to myself, a lesson only I would really ever know, until the day where I would teach that lesson, in a different form, to someone else.

But I was wrong. The day was right but the date was wrong. There was a part of me that was upset that I didn't learn my lesson. But there was another part of me that accepted a new lesson. I'll let the Beatles explain that one.