Terse e-mail today informs me I should cancel my flight to the scheduled training I've been preparing for. Maybe the examiner remembers me after all, and fled the country in horror when he heard he might have to get back in an airplane with me. Or maybe the autopilot doesn't work; the boss got a contract and needs me flying not training/testing; we're selling the Weedwhackers and buying an all-jet fleet; Transport Canada didn't approve the RNAV training programme; or someone's horoscope said it was a bad month for PPC renewals.
I think it's a game the universe plays with me. I drifted off to sleep last night thinking of how well the flight test would go, and the e-mail arrived, now that I look at the header, pretty close to the same minute I probably fell asleep. Perhaps it will keep playing it until I don't even twitch at the prospect.
Bring it on, universe. Bring it on. I'll keep studying, as the training will be rescheduled sometime in the next couple of months.
Argh. Like getting ready to dive and being notified the pool is drained. Your preparation won't be wasted. You won't twitch as much next time, and somewhere, in the majority of universes in the multiverse, Aviatrix' ppc ride was stellar.
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