angst.

okay, I confess to having some. Of the "what the hell am I doing all alone in a foreign country?" variety.

I imagine (boy is mine active) that this is normal. After all, I've spent huge swaths of my life alone in a not so foreign country, why would this be that much different?

And it isn't. But I guess maybe I hoped it would be.

So maybe that's it. Not only has my long-visioned quest been to live in this strange, new land. But not to do so as all alone as I've grown accustomed to being. Actually I am pretty good at being alone. I've mastered it. If this is what it is, I'll live. No pity parties necessary.

Still.

Because that is not my first choice, I have angst. That I'll be here and unable to connect. The past couple of days I've stayed in. Well except for that walk to the market. And today I'm staying in, waiting for appliance delivery.

But tomorrow I'm going out. Going to a vide-grenier. and an art exhibit at the hotel owned by Irish. And next week there are language classes. And I hereby resolve to plot outings.

For this whole thing has to be about MORE than a house. But god, I hope it also isn't about months and endless months of me knocking about alone. or complaining about said solitude. because I refuse to have regrets.

sigh.

well hey, that would be a good blog title. *Knocking About Alone.* could work into something.

queue Al Green music.

meh.