Monday, December 15, 2008

Boxing Day

I went to the post office today and spent a fortune shipping a bunch of crap home. It probably would have been wiser and no more expensive to pay an overweight charge at the airport. That's what I get for trying to make my life easier: it gets harder.

The price was so exorbitant for the boxes as packed that the nice man at the post office suggested I use some of their set-rate boxes. This lead to the unpacking and repacking of my boxes in the middle (well, next to one of the walls) of the rather busy (holiday time) post office. Awful.

Plus, for each box, I had to fill out two forms and with three boxes that meant six forms altogether. Incredibly irritating. I should have either paid to ship the boxes as packed (gulp) or got myself home and stuffed everything, somehow, into my suitcases. Would have been a tight fit, though. Even worse, my two boxes didn't fit into their three. So I had to haul a passel of stuff home anyway.

Everything I have will fit in my luggage but I may exceed the weight limit. We'll see.

I am packed for London. One thing I don't have to worry about. I have this fond hope that once I get to London, I will stop worrying. I have a place to stay, Kent even went to see it. I have my time with Alicia arranged. That's all that should need doing. Let's hope it's as easy as it seems. (Repacking my London suitcase will not be fun--I am bringing too much stuff. It's ok, I can deal.)

Other than that, I've done almost nothing today and certainly nothing fun--or at least Paris-specific fun. I was close to staying in all night but I decided to run that one last load of laundry instead waiting until tomorrow morning so I'd have the day clear to do…something. Not sure what will get on the agenda, but leaving the house is up there. I will leave for sure because I have a concert to go to at 8pm and dinner in advance of that…but I'll leave even earlier and take a walk and perhaps visit a photography exhibit (there's a free one at the Hotel de Ville).

Right now, while the laundry is running, I'm sitting in a sweet little overpriced café around the corner. I paid too much for a demi beer (25% of a liter) but the upside is the sound of conversation and a jazz combo playing softly and skillfully in the background.

I wrote another paragraph on the novel and I don't know how to get the plot started. I've never tried to write anything remotely "genre." Nothing I've ever written has much of a plot. I write the kind of stuff I don't like to read and I can't write the stuff I find most entertaining. I'm not surprised.

Grateful for: organization (such as it is).

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