La Vie Bohème

If someone told me a year ago about my life now, I would not have believed that I would end up in this small corner of France. I wake up three times a week and drive an hour through beautiful countryside with fields, pastures, and rivers, that somehow manages to simultaneously support blooming wildflowers and changing leaves.

At the end of the day, I come home to my cozy flat, which my landlady called The Nest. We're on the top floor and the ceiling follows the contour of the roof, so you have to stoop if you walk anywhere beyond the middle of the room.

The apartment is unfurnished, but we've been eating our dinners on a cardboard box that serves as a table. Never underestimate the versitility of a cardboard box; they can be bedside tables, bookshelves, cutting boards, you name it. We finally bought a coffee table when we realized how odd it was to wipe off the cardboard surface when we spilled jelly or dressing on it.

Even though we didn't have much of a dining room, Ben and I still managed to make pretty elaborate dinners. God knows how we both manoeuvre around the kitchen to grill our food, make our fresh salads and homemmade dressings, and gather the wine, bread and cheese (yes, those stereotypes of the French are true). It was a glorious day when we bought a toaster oven and baked apple turnovers for desert.Since we've had the oven we've made successful cookies and other apple cinnamon desserts, and it hasn't seemed to matter that our kitchen is pretty illequipped.

We have guests this weekend, and since the only soft surface is our matress (we slept our first night on the floor in a pile of clothes and that was NOT comfortable), we turned it sideways and slept all four of us together. Good thing we were already close friends.