I realized mid-day yesterday, while squinting at a computer screen and wishing I was outside, that in exactly two weeks, I will be in Paris! In between packing, and moving, and squatting in the homes of my friends, dealing with work, getting over a cold, and missing dear old Arthur, I have completely forgotten to be excited. Enough of that, I say!
Today begins the advent calendar countdown to the joyous final destination. Ok, I realize that an advent calendar usually spans the entire month, and to some of you the birth of the Infant Christ is a much more momentous occasion than some fruity girl's running off to France, but the point I'm straining to make is that instead of feeling overwhelmed, tired, and kind of numb, I will wake up each morning and put a stroke through the calendar day, and blink a couple of times while actively digesting the reality that I am going to do something huge.
And it is huge. Infant Christ huge in my world. (Sorry Grandmaman.) Paris represents a giant leap towards freedom and independence, and living the life I've always wanted for myself. Everything that has unfolded in the last month, though really emotionally draining and scary as hell is making me feel like I can do anything.
Except in those moments where I've had too much tea/wine before bed and I get the nighttime blinkies. (Nighttime Blinkies: Imagine you are a cartoon, and you are in bed with the covers pulled up around your chin, trying to sleep, but your huge, white, blinking eyes are illuminating the entire room.)
Today, I am switching to herbal, and settling in to really enjoy the ride.
Arthur is in full support of this plan.
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