Last night I dreamed that I was in the kitchen at work taking off my pants (y’know, as I’m wont to do) when I saw a man walk past, holding my boss in a headlock, a gun pointed at her temple. He was forcing her to walk into the office. I thought, I gotta get the hell out of here, and I ran down 29 flights of stairs and fled the building with the full intention of never, ever returning. I didn’t even inform building security on my way out.
This morning when I was putting on my makeup, I heard an NPR story about how 21% of farms in France are underemployed. They’re desperate for workers, skilled or unskilled. So desperate that they’ve launched a new ad campaign calling for young city slickers to pursue a meaningful career in agriculture.
I’ve already looked into it; I can take Cautionary Dog with me with just a microchip, a rabies vaccination certificate and a letter from his vet stating that he is in good health that is certified by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. It’s off to France we go.