It's Hard To Keep Them Down On The Farm

Just outside the front door where I was staying in Paris

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 view from the end of the street

I had a wonderful time in Paris. How could I not? We had perfect, sunny, warm weather almost every day. The one day that it did rain was perfect in its own way because the umbrellas and the puddles provided atmosphere.

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.

The dining room at the apartment in the 7th arrondissement

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?

Paris was awesome, and I realize that a steady diet of awesome -- like a steady diet of birthday cake -- is probably not healthy for me. And my life here is good, it really is. But "good" has come with a price, and I guess my point is, if I'm going to pay a price anyway I'd like a little more awesome, s'il vous plait.