I believe I have been lost in a time warp. If I woke up tomorrow, and the past thirty years had only been a dream, and I was still a senior in high school, it would feel more believable to me than the fact that I have been alive long enough to be having a 30th high school reunion. Maybe I could believe that I was having my 10th reunion, but no way my 30th.
Except that when I think about it, most of high school is a bit of a blur now. I don't remember some of my teacher's names anymore. I don't remember who I went to the junior prom with. And boy oh boy did we all have awful hair.
They have scheduled the reunion for August 8.
The day before August 9.
Which means, I DON'T HAVE TO GO!!
I'm not even going to try and hide my joy in the fact that the reunion is scheduled for the same weekend as Alisa's wedding. I am giddy over the idea that not only do I not have to go, (which I wouldn't go anyway) but I have a completely foolproof, waterproof, guiltproof excuse for not going. There will be no hemming and hawing about it this year. Nobody trying to convince me how fun it will be to go. No wondering or worrying if I am missing out, if I SHOULD go. No feeling like a party pooper.
I AM NOT GOING. And I'm happy.
Call me crazy. I would rather spend a whole week hosting a boatload of French strangers as house guests and cater a wedding in the mountains than go spend four hours having fake conversations with fat old people that I haven't spoken to in thirty years, and never cared that much about anyway. And yes, I realize that I also am an old fat person. I just don't need to be reminded of it by seeing the faces of people who are as old as me.