Suddenly everyone seems to want to convince me to move to London. That would be a great idea if only I had money and I wouldn't be so far away from my friends and family and if their economy wasn't in the toidy and England suddenly had a great need for another unemployed playwright. I'm not moving to London. Let's stop talking about it.
But visiting! Ah, visiting, now that is another kettle of fish altogether. I just happen to have consulted the magic eight ball over at Travelocity and I discovered a fare out of Washington DC to London Heathrow (angelic chime!) for three hundred and fifty dollars. Allow me to use numerals: 3-5-0. Dollars ($). For next February.
Oh so tempting. Just a click...a single click and I have reservations, a few emails and I'd have floors all over the city I could crash on...decent tea and love for my favourite Turner only a few months away. I could finally visit the Transport Museum, what was closed the entire time I was studying there! I could take the Tube--to the Tube museum! London in February is a lovely time to visit. It's cold, rainy, snotty, no one likes to go. I'd have the Nelson Room all to myself at the NMM. Oh, all this possibility with only a click, a single TAP of my FINGER...
"aaaahlll you have to dooo is...moooove your little fingaaaaah...just a single little finger can...mmmm.....CHANGE THE WORLD."
(that of course being a quote from "assassins" about shooting a president. i just want to flyyyy)
Three fifty I could do. I'd live on tea and cheap soup, hit up Sainsburys for some PB and live on peanut butter sandwiches all week. Sleep on floors. Make my boyfriend take care of my dog. Screw the fact that I ain't got no vacation time saved up, I'll just eat the hours...say a thousand dollars. Yeah. I could do it for a thousand dollars...I have a thousand dollars...get my FIX...
I hate being a responsible adult.