In less than one month, this will be my backyard. I will adhere to a strict diet of espresso and raspberry gelato. I will wear floaty linen dresses and speak only in exaggerated hand gestures. In four weeks, I will wave arrivederci to America–if only for a year or so. Right now, as I soak up the goodness of every last cheeseburger, Lifetime original movie, and outlet mall that I possibly can, I still can’t help but daydream…
“In less than one month, this will be my backyard.” sounds a whole heap like bragging, thing is that there isn’t a soul that stumbles across this site that would blame you for doing so. You lucky duck.
Well pardon my bragging, monsieur. Though I am incredibly grateful that I’ll be spending a year there, I plan on going overboard with pictures of spaghetti and flowers and so forth. But don’t worry–I do not plan on going all “Under the Tuscan Sun” with my American self-entitlement.
Ma’dam, let me assure you that you owe me no explanation. My light-hearted ribbing is merely me showing vast amounts of self-control when dealing with what is essentially a metric fuck-ton of envy towards the well doings of an internet writing comrade. Honestly, I think I did pretty good. I look forward to viewing the spaghetti.
On a completely unrelated note, I propose a challenge for you, my verbose compatriot! We shall someday carry on one of our discussions using a selection of words with an average letter count of four or fewer. I think it would be quite the to-do.
You are on. Just let me know where and when.
I see what you did thar.
What can I say? I do good work.