Well, it’s official. I’m going with my family to Jamaica in a couple of weeks.

Booking this thing was quite the roller coaster ride. It seemed like every day brought a new plan. We’re going to Florida, we’re going back to Cuba, we’re not going anywhere, we’re going to Aruba, we’re going to the Dominican Republic, we’re not going anywhere, Florida, Cuba, Jamaica!

I’d be lying if I said that I was succeeding in keeping my expectations of this trip low. I mean, the last time I went on vacation, I had the best seven days of my life so far. Expectations of this trip are understandably through the roof.

Don’t get me wrong. I want my expectations to be low so that I’m not disappointed. I keep reminding myself that Cuba was an ultimate stroke of good fortune, and will never happen to me again. But I still can’t keep my expectations down. The fact is that Cuba happened, and as long as that fact doesn’t change, I’ll be disappointed if Jamaica doesn’t turn out awesome as well.

But hey, if Cuba happened once, it could conceivably happen again. God willing, it could happen again.