Today was one of those days where after a week of needing to get away from yourself, you finally attempt to do so. Lusia and I had poorly poorly poorly planned to go to Grasse today. Ok, maybe it was me who did the horrible planning (as always). Last night I told her it probably wasn't worth the trip today since she had to be back by 5pm, and then this morning, at 9:45 I decided we should go anyways, sent her a quick facebook message telling her to meet me at our usual meeting spot at 11, and then walked out the door. Looking back, I realize that wasn't the brightest idea and I should probably be put in a straight jacket, but I know that if I hadn't gotten myself out of bed and gone through with this outrageous plot, I probably would be in a straight jacket by the time Ricky gets here. So, I drove to Saint Raphael. And as always, the traffic was horrible and I ended up taking a completely different road once I got to Frejus and so of course I got lost. And it was 11:30 by the time I got to the parking only to find that the entire lot was blocked because of a fair/market type thing. Stuff like this always happens with me and Luisa and we always end up finding each other somehow. We seriously have like this weird brain connection. So I went ahead and parked in Port Santa Lucia and called Luisa, no answer. I waited until 12, still didn't hear back. Realized she probably didn't get my message and probably didn't think the trip was worth it either and in the end I made the decision to continue on my own. I chose the N7 over the A8 because I can't be bothered with toll roads and headed for Grasse. After about ten more minutes of driving I got sick of the radio and all the CDs I had in the car and just started singing any song that came to mind. An hour later I arrived in Grasse, where I visited 2 Parfumeries before I realized that I don't like perfume. So I hopped back in the car, hands reeking of at least 10 different scents, grabbed a large coke at McDonalds and started driving back when I saw signs for Cannes. I really don't know where my head was at when I woke up this morning, but I most definitely did not have it in the car with me. I suppose that was what I had wanted to accomplish. So I just drove basically. Cannes is nice. The beaches were packed and there was so much work being done to get ready for the Film Festival (starts Wednesday, 11 May). At some point or another I'd had enough and started the 2 hour drive back to Cogolin still singing whatever popped in my head. By the time I got back I had been driving for 6 hours and all I had to show was an empty cup of coke and a broken tail light (I backed into a low concrete block pulling out of Port Santa Lucia) and sticky smelly hands. I wasn't ready to go back to the house because I've been avoiding Christine and Nigel because I think they really hate me and I don't really blame them so I pulled in at the apartment and fell asleep in a plastic chair for an hour! If Tom saw me he probably thinks I'm a total nut, but I suppose I am so it doesn't really matter.
After a day of escaping myself, now I have to look in the mirror and actually deal with the fact that I will be home in a month. As much as I don't really want to stay here. I'm not ready to go back. All I want is to keep moving forward.
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