I wrote a friend an email today, and realized just how full of complaints I have been lately. I am homesick, they have no Mexican food here (please: if you love me, you will send me salsa. Or even better, a burrito, packed in dry ice.), no one sends me letters.*
And then I realized...I am in Provence, studying nothing remotely related to science, surrounded by cafés and cobblestones and living in a town with more than one papeterie.
I have nothing to complain about.
So I decided to have a Lovely Day. I slept in, made pesto for lunch, went to the library with Arielle, and got fries from a sidewalk stand.
There is a bookstore in Aix, Book in Bar, that has become a little haven for all us English speakers. So today, in pursuit of my Lovely Day, I went to Book in Bar, ordered a pot of Caramel Tea (delicious), and did all my homework before 3pm. I have pretty significant ADD, so even doing my homework is a triumph, but completing it during daylight hours? Unheard of.
I walked out around five with a book of Oscar Wilde quotations and a bit of a stomachache. Four cups of tea will do that to you.
*This is a genuine complaint. I share a mailbox with A. Adams, who has gotten three packages and six letters in the past three weeks. Every time I look in the mailbox, my heart does a little flutter to see that it's full, and then a horrible plummet when I realize it's, yet again, for Ashlee.
