Calme avant la tempête

You know how when something calamitous is about to happen and you see it in slow motion and you just kind of stare at it and then it happens and you're like, "Why did I let that happen!!?" Well I have all my semester's work condensed in a space of two weeks and I see it all building up right before my eyes, as if I'm about to knock over a glass of milk or step in a puddle or walk off the edge of a cliff or something.

Not only do I have both my final projects coming up (a paper on a work of art, a presentation on a landmark), but I am also scheduled last or nearly last to do my normal class presentations, that came earlier in the term for everyone else. And what's particularly unfortunate about the end of the semester is aside from having more work than usual in school, I also have more work in life, namely, packing and getting home.

Before now and going home I'm going to work on a farm in the city of Elne, in very southern France, and then hopefully make it to Barcelona and Velencia, Spain. Then back to Paris from where I will fly to America the Beautiful. This means figuring out how to get from point A to H (and B, C, D, E, F, and G in between).

My family will be visiting during this pivotal week. Hopefully that means that rather than distracting me, I can put them on a homework assembly line: "Charlie! Write the introduction to my paper on Daumier! Mom! Start researching Louis XIII's medicinal garden! Dad! Hm, well, what's something you're capable of doing..."

I am looking forward to the end though, because I've surprisingly started to get a little homesick. My dad sent me pictures of our house, and one of them reminded me of Monet's garden, so maybe when I get back I'll become a famous turn-of-the-century impressionist painter with a long beard.