My last final is Monday, then I'm getting a haircut and going to Norway.

So tomorrow will be day seven (even though it seems like day 372) of the painter. He's everything you could expect in a French painter too. Tiny man, giant ladder, constantly rolling and smoking cigarettes, covered in every color paint imaginable, slapping said paint all over the walls and all over our stuff as well, all while singing along to his radio. (When I say all over our stuff, I mean we have paint in the toilet, paint all over the bathtub, paint on the underside of the shower head, etc. He's painting our bathroom, the entry hall, and part of our bedroom hallway.) He arrives every morning at 8 a.m. on the dot, and without fail he's woken us all up with his radio by 8:30 a.m. I don't understand why our landlord had to decide to do everything this year. First we had the rugs cleaned, and then we had the electricity guy fixing bad wiring, and then the refrigerator door fell off, and then our heater broke twice, and then the washing machine broke, and now the painter.

We're having more French roommate problems again. We're only halfway through and she just can't stop with the drama and we're all sick of it.

In the most important news, I booked my return ticket finally! I'll be arriving at 6:10 p.m. June 27th in Cinci. I expect a cake when I get home, dad. I wanted to come home the 25th but they didn't have anymore seats available. Too bad as soon as I'm home I have summer school for the next six weeks. I fully intend to spending this upcoming summer eating all the food I've been craving the past year, take cake classes at IUS, and sitting around with Becca playing with the puppies and watching the entire Sex in the City series.