When I was younger (think college), I wouldn’t yell or freak out when stress reached a certain level. Instead, I’d wind up scrunching up my fists and letting this odd little sound come out of my mouth.


I don’t know how it started, but it was what it was and I went with it. And after several of the highest-stress, jam-packed weeks I’ve had in years, that sound has most certainly been on my mind.

So know what? I’m taking some V time. Wherever I can get it. And if it means that other things have to be put on the back burner for a few days, for the sake of general sanity, so be it.

If I want to accept a last-minute invitation to a Red Sox game (as was the case Monday)? I’m doing it. If a fellow wants to cook me a (amazing) dinner? Yes, please (and thank you, as it truly was amazing). If the chance comes up to view an apartment with the hopes that one of my dearest friends and I can move in in September, I’m going to.

Simply put, I’ve been busting my ass for so long that it’s about time I cashed in those fun points and started actually having some fun.

So there.