O Panic! O Thrill! I'm Moving to Paris (History 2006 version)

Is it possible to imagine the sheer excitement and thrill and bone-chilling what-the-hell-am-I doing  anxiety when you are about to embark on a move to Paris?

Well, that was me, one decade ago today.

Breathe, Polly, breathe, I told myself.

House was turned upside down.

I was busy moving my stuff into storage. Becoming best buddies with the consignment store.

Organizing my grown kids' stuff into their own separate storage units.

Figuring out bank accounts, mail, goldfish, phones. Not sure I was doing any of it right.

Breathe, Polly, breathe, I told myself.

Every day was panic and exhilaration.

I had friends and helpers, joyful and forceful, who boosted me when I needed it.

I knew it was right, but I was anxious.  Helpers insisted on Rescue Remedy. Friends and I insisted on wine.

Breathe, Polly, breathe, I told myself.

Then the email of emails arrived from my Paris landlady, whom I hadn't yet met:

"The apartment is waiting for you!  Do you prefer tea or coffee for breakfast?  We'll stock it for your arrival.  The bed is made up with fresh sheets, and all you have to do is arrive safely and collapse into bed. We are having friends for dinner the next day to welcome you to Paris."

Polly wept briefly and breathed a deep breath of relief. This would work. This would WORK!

And so I embarked on my Paris adventure, March 2006.