Actually, to be accurate, it's more like ten months in Paris.
I'm in a pretty good place right now, notwithstanding the mini-crisis I had earlier where I was convinced that I didn't know how to speak French. I'm still pretty sure I don't know how to speak French. But hey, maybe ten months in Paris will ameliorate that?
I can't believe I used the word ameliorate.
Everything is mostly packed--I just have to make sure I am under the weight limit for both my suitcases. The steps to getting that done include the following:
- convince my mother that I do not need to bring along a year's supply of Bounce laundry sheets, even if they are cheaper here than in Europe
- put back some shoes; I don't know when I came to be in possession of so many shoes, but really, I only need the hooker boots, right? Mom can bring the flip flops later.
just kidding. - ask one of my technologically proficient friends to hack into the airport database and mess with the scales for me
I am looking forward to getting on the plane, if only so I can sit down and read these ultra-super-secret letters that L. from HS deviously got everyone to write to me. Even people she didn't know from my college. That girl kind of amazes me sometimes. But yes. Lots and lots of letters for me! I love letters!
Please write me letters.
Pretty please.
I will write you letters and send you postcards! Just need your address, s'all.
Catch you all on the flip side!
T.
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