Inscription, discreetly printed on the edge of a postcard: "I drink coffee until it's time to drink wine."

The days pass thusly. At times I feel like I'm in Groundhog Day, only set in an unnaturally eternal summer. Hot and bright and maybe a little too solitary, to the point of near madness.

I miss my dog, friends, the castle cafe, the woods, green boggy hills, even the mother-in-law. "Le bonheur, c'est changer d'ennuis." Happiness is a matter of changing troubles. (Thank you, Colette.) Home tomorrow, at last.

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