Big day tomorrow.
An inspection is going to be performed on the external generator of the house I’m selling up in Westchester, NY.
If it passes the inspection, that will leave only one other contractual hurdle to be navigated prior to The Closing.
So fingers crossed; meanwhile, I am still trying to lose weight, as I fix up our new house in Florida.
My wife and I fly up to Bronxvillle in une quinzaine de jours.
Why the French expression?
Well, it is not just the showy pretentiousness of an English Major who spent his Junior Year Abroad in NIce.
I am seriously toying — if such a thing can be taken seriously — with the idea of visiting the Luberon area of France for a few weeks in mid September — with an eye to renting a place(s) like this * for no more than three consecutive months — due to Schengen rules — next summer.
Sicily, Sardinia, Portugal are all quite lovely to visit. Off season.
But France is where you spend your vacancies.
France is the hub.
France is the foot.
It’s just is so much easier living in a European country if you actually speak the local language, and know your way around already and can watch local TV and go the movies and find things with ease at the Monoprix.
Besides, there are just too many interesting little towns in Aquitaine, Languedoc and l’Occitanie that I’ve yet to visit.
Summering in Provence and wintering in Florida sounds really appealing.
Right now, it is just an idle pipe dream.**
Next week, it may become more than that.
* as it turns out, this place is unavailable from May to mid September, which is exactly when you would want to rent it. Like most such seemingly too-good-to-be true deals, it is. You are basically paying the owner’s mortgage and carrying costs, during the shitty months, while he or she or they get to lead the pastorl Provence life during the summer on your dime.
** further research has revealed that per diem/weekly rents in the South of France during summmer are ludicrous. Back to the drawing board, yo. Maybe there is nowhere to go in Europe where you are not mobbed with downscale partying riffraff and birkenstock zombies, if you can only afford a normal budget. In that case, Florida in summer with its relaitve emptiness after all the snowbird shitheads leave seems rather appealing — if you can hold your nose at the stench of its state politics.