Grand Plans

It doesn't seem real to me that I've been here for six weeks. And that in only four, I'm going home again. And that in about eight, I'll be knee-deep in la belle France.

My lack of employment for the first few weeks of this venture is what's kept me from realizing the time which has passed. If I'd been working since the beginning of June, I think I'd feel more ready for the summer to end. But here it is at the halfway point and I've barely begun. I'll leave and have just a couple weeks to get my shit together for France, and then I'll be thrown into it, wide-eyed and still mumbling bits of English when my vocabulary fails me.

And then what? What experience will that be? Away from everything familiar, including my own language, food and radio choices, for months. Thrust into socialized healthcare and subsidized rents, cheese and cheap (but delicious) wine, bad imitations of American Idol and fleets of mopeds. At least, that's how I envision it. Experience usually dictates something rather different.

I suppose the point of all this is that living in New York should be equipping me to live in France, at least to some extent. No parents to rely on for money, laundry or supply of the Harry Potter book. No college dorm or dining hall, no free cable. Rent. Groceries. Public transportation.

Unfortunately (and don't take this the wrong way), I have you. You're giving me all my New York guidance, recommending cheap restaurants and dictating dinners. You're enthusiastic about my banana pudding forays and bringing home baba ghanouj. I love living with you, and it's going to be a big, nasty shock when you're not in France with me. I'm going to have to figure it out on my own. Which bar has cheap cocktails? Who do I call for a wax? Where is the dollar store?*

All this is my reasoning for you coming to live on my couch. Then you can come to Granada and Morocco with me and Claire. And you can experience cheese with me. And we can drink fabulous wine every night for the cost of one wash at the Laundromat.

You can think about it for a bit, but let me know soon so I can put in for a roommate who's never around.

xxxAnnie

*Or euro store, fine. It's still a dollar store to me.