As April looms into view, I've been keeping a close watch on the two dates that only mean death and doom for me.
April 6th: My 24th Birthday.
This will be the day when I will officially kiss my early 20s good-bye and I still have yet to be blind drunk enough to go out for a midnight kebab run. This is surely an issue that my Teaching Assistant friends will be glad to help rectify.
In one year after this day, I will have lived a quarter of a century. I probably still won't have a stable job and thus further convince the people closest to me that my English Literature degree was a waste of time and money. Shocking, isn't it?
April 15th: THE LAST DAY to file any "stay longer in France" paperwork with the Préfecture.
This is the day that keeps me up at night with worry. This is the day that breathes down my neck, taunting me with the idea that my time in Dijon taking walks around Lac Kir will quickly come to an end. This is THE DAY that tells me my life of cheese eating and wine drinking will soon be over.
I've lost nearly all hope in finding a job over here and I can't express how sad this makes me. If, by some miracle, I do end up with a dream-job in France, I will be eternally grateful to the heavens above. I have not imagined my future and my life outside of this country.
Maybe I should go back to being a mail-order bride? At this point, marriage seems to be the only immediate solution to keep me longer over here. The only positive thing that I can say about this is the fact that I am at least not madly in love with a handsome Frenchman. The heartbreak of leaving someone behind would only make the situation even sentimentally worse.
Yet...I remain hopeful. Thanks to Spring and sunshine, I've been genuinely happier. As a Miamian, I miss out on the wonder of seeing trees renew with emerald leaves and flowers burst into view.