The exam I've spent the last 2-1/2 months preparing for? Happens tomorrow. The starting gun goes off around 8:30, it should all be over but the sobbing by 3. (Or so. More or less.)
The women babes at the language school I've lounged about during these many weeks of pain and suffering classes have given us three old versions of the exam, each more difficult than the last. At least for me. Could be gathering fatigue played a part in that, I can't say. God knows, I'll be happy to see the backside of this happening. Not that I'll be skipping around ripping off my clothes and tossing down vats of high-octane sangria afterward, mind you. It'll just be nice to be under less pressure, with less work to do. I say 'less' instead of 'no' pressure because I've apparently decided to continue with classes in the week ahead, though at half the current load. God forbid I be able to relax and sleep in for a few days. Harrumph.
Er, where was I? Ah, right -- the important bit is that I passed all three dry-run exams, as did the other two members of the group who will be testing with me. Meaning the odds of making it through tomorrow's joyful hours with a passing grade are probably not bad.
The bugger is going to happen at the centuries-old Universidad de Alcalá, a half-hour train ride to the east of Madrid. I have no intention of dragging myself out from under the covers at 6 a.m. or earlier so that I can elbow my way through rush hour, grab an early train and stagger to the examination site frothing at the mouth, which means I'll be hopping a train in a couple of hours to spend the night in Alcalá and show up at the exam reasonably well-rested, mentally prepared, blah blah blah.
Back online sometime post-event.
Seen this morning on the sidewalk along la Calle de Hortaleza, Madrid: