This week has been oddly limbo-ish. It got really cold here after a huge gale that left the boat rocking and rolling all night. Everyone in Denmark has decided to stare at me when I walk by, and I'm not sure if these are signs of love or if they want to punch my lights out. Suddenly I miss urban life. I've been constantly thinking of moving on to Paris and feeling a little impatient at not being there yet. I'm staring at apartment listings all day long, to the point that my head aches and my inquiries become gibberish. D. found a huge, fantastic loft that we didn't move on quickly enough, and someone else grabbed it out from under us. I wanted to kick myself for hesitating. I want to email everyone who blogs from Paris to ask, "How the hell did you find your apartment? Is there a fabulous agency, worth its fee? Or is it all word of mouth?" Everyone has horror stories but where's the how-to manual? I refuse to live in a tiny little miserable space and pay an exorbitant amount for it. I want to know what the secret is. There must be one. Waah.
Yes, I'm wallowing in it.
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