Monthly Archives: July 2019

Progress, or not

At my request we have limited our interactions to WhatsApp because every time I see him or hear his voice it breaks my heart again. Fuckin’ kintsukuroi bullshit.

So but then even the WhatsApp chats are patchy because I am occasionally snarky (who, moi?) and then he avoids me because, I dunno, I hurt his feelings or some shit? Look, all I said was “try not to sleep with any students at the Summer School,” which wasn’t wrong in any sense – apparently this is now a thing he does – it was just maybe not very nice. Not that I owe him nice, after what he did to me. Which he knows. So he can’t clap back, so he runs away. Which I think is cowardly, but probably also useful because we shouldn’t have too much contact, see above re break and heart.

Aaaaaanyhoodles. We had a perfectly civil WhatsApp chat yesterday about organizing all this moving business and when I can get my shit out of the house so he can start organizing his shit and getting rid of the shit nobody wants, and I handled it without any tears or hyperventilating or self-harm (or snark, yay me), and then I drove to the house to do some stuff. As I was driving up the hill I saw him walking down the hill and all my hard-earned composure disappeared with a vast flushing sound. And since then I have been in full-on Eeyore mode.

I was so attached to this future I thought we had together, and I can’t seem to let go, no matter how many times I tell myself that I have to let go, that it’s the only way I’ll ever be happy again, that I’m going to let go, starting right now! Okay… now! Em, howbout now?

I miss him, I hate him, I need him, he was bad for me, I’m better off, I’m so sad I can’t bear it. This tug-of-war is exhausting.

Moving. Twice.

Oh right, there’s this blog! Sorry, been busy. Also depressed.

So yeah, my step-mom and sons helped me move a buttload of stuff into the mini-storage, which is now very full, and we got me moved into the shared house that I mentioned in this post. But also…

Well, before I signed the contract for this place Mr. Husband placed an ad in the local paper and a few people contacted him and long story short, I looked at one flat right before I left for France (like, 9pm the night before I left) and I felt kind of pressured to make a quick decision but also YOU people told me that covering my rent was the fucking least he could do and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it (which, okay, that is true) so I accepted the place and now I will be moving into a 1-bedroom apartment across the river, right by the medical campus. At some point.

See, the previous tenants haven’t handed back the keys yet, even though they’re moved out, so the locks have to be changed, and someone has to put the new oven in and paint the kitchen and bathroom and we don’t know when that’s all going to be done and blah blah blah. I just found out today that I could probably start storing stuff in there this Friday, when it will be 37°C (that’s 98.6°F, body temperature) which doesn’t seem like the best time to be hoicking boxes up stairs.

But also: I have to move twice. Because apparently no matter how bad things get in my life, I just can’t resist the urge to complicate things.

Song du jour of the day: Blackbird. The Beatles.

Watch this space

Hi! Yes! I’m back from France and up to my ears in moving. My step-mom came back with me and is directing everything because I can’t think, but I will update the blog… at some point. When I can whittle the story down to something coherent because, um, it’s kind of a mess and you’ll want to know why it shook out this way. Or I, looking back from the future, will want to know what the hell I was thinking, because on the face of it, it looks like I’m complicating things unnecessarily. All I can say is that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Yeah. Let me think about how I’m going to explain this.

Song du jour of the day: River, by Joni Mitchell.


We needed a market (because fruit), and this one seemed like the best of the nearby options. It was actually a pretty disappointing market, so I suspect it wasn’t the main one, but it had fruit, so okay. But coincidentally, V-la-R was having some kind of Roman re-enactment thing, so I took a bunch of pictures! Which I cropped and spiffed and now can’t find. Hang on a sec…

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Some stuff we did

We went to the Camargue! And we got to ride a tiny ferry!

And then we were here:

… and we saw some flamingos, very far off, and I took some pictures but they just look like white blobs in the distance. So then we went here:

… and I got some slightly better pictures.

The flamingos did much more interesting things than just stand around, but never when I was pointing a camera at them. Oh well. Flamingos, am I right?

Also there may have been some mosquitoes.

Yes that is my knee and shin.

That was yesterday. Today we did literally nothing because Provence is roughly the temperature of the sun’s surface and our AirBnB has air conditioning. The fruit situation is desperate, but we have enough stinky cheese and delicious bread to hold out until the morning farmer’s market.

Provence is such a good place to ignore your problems.

I can too pick out a good AirBnB so neener

I loved traveling with Mr. Husband partly because he was so good at finding really great places to stay. But I found this one all by myself and it is spiffing, so that is also a thing I don’t need him for. I will continue to look for things to add to the list.




Lavender! Bees!

Olive trees!

View from the driveway

Big shady tree


Hello I am in France and lo, it sweltereth. On the bright side, the town I’m in is pronounced like “bone”, which amuses the hell out of my inner 12-year-old.

What do you suppose people do in here? Hur hur hur…