Three weeks and counting, 'til our feet hit French soil. (No, Abbey's not going to get down and kiss it, no matter what you say.) I have to say that the idea of living in Paris is still as surreal to us as the objets d'art in the Georges Pompidou.
Is that a foot...or an eye...or a what? (Don't get me wrong --I really do like Kadinsky.) But you know, with all the planning, packing, checking, boxing, bagging, I feel about as discombobulated as the poor guyabove. Utter exhaustion set in this evening, and yet there's still miles to go before we sleep.
But God is so good to us, for we indeed have a place to sleep. For those of you who haven't had the privilege of being around when Karl whips out his fancy Blackberry to provide visuals of our new pad, here 'goes:
Balcony. With herbs.
Exterior view. Ah, 70's architecture.
Interior - front room.
Okay, so we don't have pics of the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen yet, but our landlords have assured us that they do exist. (Right...) We also just found out this week that we will have wireless Internet, so you will all have to endure my rambling, ambling blog entries for a while. Genuinely sorry.