I spent a month in Paris by myself. That's something, isn't it? Hardly Nobel Peace Prize territory, or even getting-your-card-stamped-at-the-Subway cool, but for a fairly conventional, introverted homebody who'd never been out of the country before last October, it counts as something.
Flapping my wings on Friday; the rest of the week I'm keeping to myself, in order to maintain some semblance of my hitherto mysterious allure.
I'M COMING HOME, AMERICA! Lock up your burgers.