I know that my gentle readers have been patiently waiting for details on my recent trip to Paris, but this week, I have found myself in kind of a funk.
The park at the Place des Vosges
While I was in Paris, it was easy (well, relatively easy) not to think about life back home -- about dealing with Unemployment Insurance and finding a job. Now that I'm home, I'm a like a little kid who came home from a party hopped up on sugar and wanting to sleep in her party dress and patent-leather shoes.
It probably doesn't help that I went to Walmart two days after I returned. It was, in retrospect, a stupendously bad idea, but I needed cat food and paper towels. So I went. And if that didn't convince me I was home, dealing with the Rhode Island Department of Labor and realizing I'd found it easier to communicate with people in Paris using my limited French certainly did. So where does this leave me?