Wait for it...

I'm sitting in an apartment in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, waiting for a crumb cake to bake, drinking coffee, and just taking it all in. This is the day I've been waiting for. It's the culmination of months of talks and jokes and bonds and planning and excitement. But, excitement doesn't do it justice. It's an indescribable feeling of feels. Yeah.

There are really, very few moments in life that compare to that feeling of complete, unbridled excitement. The point where that excitement goes beyond excitement. When the word "excited" seems paltry. Miniscule. You think, and you dig, you have a sit down with a thesaurus, but nothing comes close to capturing the thrill of what's about to come.

does "juiced up" work? Possibly. Also, worst thesaurus ever.

I'm beyond adjectives at this point. And it's hard to remember the last time I felt this way.

When I was 12 and woke up knowing it was the day my dad was coming back from a year away in Saudi?

When I woke up on that first morning in Paris?

When I saw my last packed bag and realized I was ready to move to New York for college?

When I got to hug Scott Thompson?

Possibly.

But I'm here. I'm literally shaking and vibrating with a feverish happiness because Joel is flying in for his month long visit. The possibilities are out of this world, and my excitement is absolutely off the charts.

I'm on Cloud 9. I walked around the neighborhood this morning in trashy fleece lounge pants and a greased stained shirt and I didn't care. In 5 hours, my world is going to change. And I literally couldn't be happier.

Unless, like, Michael Fassbender showed up with a pot bellied pig and a duffle bag full of tax-free money and a deep dish pizza. I mean, that'd be pretty sweet. But I'll take this. I'll take this veritable blender-casserole of feels in hipster Brooklyn apartment and I'll just drown in it. With the biggest smile on my face.

I am that cat.

Ahhhhhh!! 5 more hours.