Four days before I leave: Friends take me to dinner, the guys upstairs had a going away party. I’ll be gone for a year. At least that’s my thought at this time. I’m prepared to be homesick, lonely, etc. I just hope that I’m not homesick and lonely enough to come back early. Strange feeling though. Send-off parties galore. I am getting tres grossir.
Five weeks before I actually leave for France. Start the blog. At some point, I’ll put in some background, do things to make it more interesting, etc., but at the moment I’m just going to write as if I’m writing in my journal–which I do every day–except it will be limited to stuff about going to France. As I write this, I’m in the process of packing up my Long Beach apartment–there are styrofoam peanuts all over the floor, boxes half packed. I have to be out of here by the end of the month, but I keep procrastinating–same as writing.