We have these lovely neighbours who live two doors down from us. They’ve been friends of the family since before I was born…in fact, since my dad was about 8. She loves gardening and golfing, he loves golfing and attempting to speak French with me. They’re both extensive travelers, having visited Europe countless times and even Africa a few years back (I scored some socks printed with wild animals from that trip). And they are just the most wonderful people. Seriously. I want to be like them when I’m older.
Next week, they tell me they are hosting four French students who’ve come to Melbourne to study postgrad at university. And I think I am going to be introduced to them. Like, “Alyssa speaks French, that is PERFECT!” Does no one take into account my probable social anxiety and the fact that I still need a dictionary for most words. I need to go study! Speaking of France, this guy from my French class in high school has been posting too many beautiful pictures on Instagram and Facebook of Paris and London and museums and baguettes and the Metro– AND IT’S NOT FAIR! Stop it, Glenn. You’re life is too much better than mine. (He’s training to be a pilot, so I don’t think he’s going to stop any time soon. So I’ll make the best of the situation and FORCE HIM TO TAKE ME TOO.) That’s rational thinking, right?
I am writing this while wearing some new ankle capes (see my Twitter) and glancing to my left, where some hotel room is on fire on the TV. So I’ll leave you with that visual. BYE!