was getting an erection and ravishing an English maiden at some point in the distant, distant past (by the way, there might be some evidence that the English maidens weren’t exactly raped since Viking men were very used to strong, strong women and were not necessarily inclined to unite sex and violence) and setting in motion the genetic chain of events that would result in me, the Romans were erecting aqueducts and performing amazing feats of hydrodynamics and architecture. Well, my chronology could be off, but suffice it to say that I descend from the Barbarians and not from the Italians. But I can still appreciate them, can’t I?
And appreciate them I will.
Today we rented this apartment near the Piazzi di Spagna:
I envision breakfast from this terrace as we begin our days in Rome and evenings on this terrace as we digest our gelato at the end of the day.
We considered renting this apartment (well, I did, anyway):
…but quickly realized that if we did so we would never leave it. This view from the bedroom alone promises that we would probably never get out of bed:
Not that there would be anything wrong with that, but we do want to see at least someone of Rome besides the view from our bedroom window. Plus, we can’t afford this villa, so we’ll be staying here instead:
This is hardly a huge sacrifice as the terraced penthouse apartment we did rent is hardly a hovel (just a bit smaller, slightly less grandiose, and incredibly more affordable). Again, my husband is so good to me. I wanted a terrace and now I have one.
Here’s a shout out to Theresa for her help in locating said apartment. As she suggested, the prices of apartments were much better (about half) than hotels and affords us the opportunity to make some of our own food that we procure from the local markets. I actually am going to get to shop everyday in an Italian market and make fresh Italian food and eat it with my lover while relaxing on our Italian terrace. Could life get better than this?
Today, I ordered two things off of Amazon to help us prepare for our trip. First, Rick Steve’s 2009 guide to Rome and second, some audiotapes for learning Italian, quick.
My son is coming home for the weekend and I plan to drive him over to the train yard and help him get ready for his new adventure as a hobo (I’m not kidding, I’m going to help him). I figure if you can’t control ’em, help ’em. Anyway, I am going to emphasize the importance of keeping his legs out of the way of the moving train lest he end up bleeding to death as a sudden, double amputee while lying alone in some train yard somewhere. And thanks to a local hairdresser, I’m in the process of locating a real-life professional hobo who lives in our area to help our son get started on his way. I spent part of the day learning new phrases like “bull” (the railyard policeman) and the “bullmobile” (his SUV) and “hopping out”.
I also spent a significant portion of today painting my daughter’s kitchen cabinets to help her get her new kitchen put away so she can start procreating. Oh, and I contacted Social Security and I’m trying to get my mother’s financial issues sorted out. That’s a complicated mess, trust me. But most of all, I’m dreaming of Rome.