And it wasn’t pretty. I don’t know why, but I have been having the most horrible dreams ever since I moved back. I get to bed, roll around a bit and finally collapse happily into a deep slumber, only to be greeted by very awful dreams. They’re not nightmares per se, but more of a hate fest towards myself. It’s like I’m my worst enemy and the sole participant in a very powerful Carla smear campaign. I think only Britney Spears can truly understand what I mean. And when the only person you can seem to relate to is Britney Spears, you know you’re in some deep doo doo. Maybe it’s all because of my positive outlook in life. I can’t seem to fool the subconscious. It’s sad, because my attitude has really changed, but it does me little good when I spend my nights spitting at myself.

We have sent the in-laws on a tour of Italy and have been enjoying going back to our routine of scratching our butts and doing nothing constructive. Whew! For a second there I thought we might actually learn something or get involved into experiencing some culture. Close call! I lie, though. I have started learning French (Est-ce que la voiture est jaune? Non, la voiture est bleue). I can understand French quite well, but I am horrific at second guessing myself and I don’t think I have even the slightest idea on how to write it. Rosetta Stone supposedly is the best way to learn a language, but I do ask myself how many occasions there will be to point at the garcon sous l’avion. I have also started up knitting more efficiently. Unfortunately, my neck pains make it a bit difficult. And now we’re about to head to bed and watch something. I am just looking forward to the crisp new sheets (not so crispy now I have a dryer!).

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