It’s grey and cool out; I am sitting in the living room having a cup of coffee and a glass of a spiced cognac-based liqueur that caught my eye at Trader Joe’s the other day. They’re both tasty and I feel my will to live returning with the fog.
I am, however, a little concerned about my inattention/eyesight from something that happened after work. I went by Target and I saw a 6-quart slow cooker on sale for $18. Only as I was in the process of paying for it did I notice it’s got a football field motif all the way around it.
Oh hell no. I would cringe and be irritated every time I saw it. I imagine that’s why it was on clearance — nobody else wanted a dumb green thing in their kitchen either.
But how did I not notice that?
Onward.
Apparently my sensitive-teeth issue is not tooth-related after all– or maybe some of it is. But not the I-would-pull-all-my-teeth-if-it-would-make-the-pain-stop festival of screaming nerves. That often happens after I’ve been through the trans-Bay tube and it happened to a lesser extent after being on the Paris metro; eating or drinking will sometimes set it off but not usually as badly. I have had the vague thought that it might be sinus-related, a dental analogue to your ears popping. Lo, the hygienist and the dentist on Wednesday both said: See an ENT. So that’s on my to-do list.
Also on the to-do list: Go all the way across the street and mail a package to France (because it wouldn’t have been easier to mail it while I was, oh, say, in France); vacuum; bake some pumpkin bread to use up the plain yogurt in my fridge; clear up the clutter round here, and then on Sunday go look at condos.
Ye gods and little fishes. I can’t believe I’m to go look at places to buy, especially since I was so adamant about not doing so. My misgivings are still there (any repair is on my dime, on my time, and due to my own organizing; I am not even the slightest bit handy; I am single; will I have to work full-time for the rest of my life because of this?) but I think the benefits outweigh the risks at this point. Especially since in my current situation I have to arrange for all repairs and whatnot myself anyway, so the luxury of calling the apartment manager and saying, “This is broken. Can you have the handyman fix it?” is over for me.
Also there may be three bedrooms! And there will definitely be two bathrooms! AND A NICE KITCHEN! Because the kitchen is the dealbreaker. If I don’t love the kitchen, I don’t care how nice the rest of the place is, I’m not buying it.
So there’s that. I am just steeling myself for 12-18 months of searching.
On another note, I’m daydreaming about my next solo trip, which might not be til 2014. The bright side to that delay is that I have plenty of time to plan and anticipate (and build my travel fund back up). I want to go to Vienna for a few days and then fly to Lyon. From Lyon I’ll either rent a car or suss out the trains to go to Avignon and Arles, and then take the train up to Paris to finish (of course). My original thought was Budapest – Vienna – Paris, but I’m not sure I want to do three countries in two-ish weeks again, and I have wanted to wander around the south of France for some time now. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got awhile to ponder!
I know people at work who will say, “What? Paris again?!” But seriously. It’s a large and ancient city — you could spend years there and not exhaust the possibilities. I’ve only been there three times for about a month altogether. (Wait, that sounds wrong — of course I’m grateful to have been there at all! But it’s not like I’ve come close to seeing or experiencing everything I’d like to, and many things require return visits. I can’t believe I didn’t go to the Louvre or the Orsay this time!)
So yeah, Paris again. Besides, with my frequent-flier plan I’d be flying into and out of either Paris or Amsterdam anyway, so…
And lastly I am gearing up to try NaNoWriMo again this year. I tried about five years ago but I was absolutely not in the right place to make it very far. I’ve had a dilemma for some time about writing — I don’t really enjoy most American literature. Yet, of course, that is what I’d write, being an American and all. I had/have a plot that involves the north of France — the reason I went to Lille last year — but I am stymied by a fierce internal editor over that. I’m not French, even by descent, and so the editor is telling me I cannot possibly write a book about French people set in France, and that if I did and anyone ever read it, I’d be torn limb from limb. I have been negotiating with the editor, asking if it’s okay if I just write the thing and then decide if I’m feeling brave and/or suicidal, but we have not reached a tentative agreement yet.
Therefore I am taking a cue from the aforementioned-very-strange Amélie Nothomb and appropriating my own life directly for something. I have a little brainstorming map going and things I want to use almost unchanged and some things will go off on a wild tangent. There is a (non-fictionalized, American) memoir out there that I very much dislike and I must be wary of making part of this story sound like hers. Anyway, if I can just get the editrix to shut up for thirty days, we’ll see.
Perhaps she’d like some cognac?
And Why Not? 