On Wednesday evenings I have a beginners French class. Which is lovely. I get to roll r’s and drop h’s to my heart’s content. What is not lovely is that when I wake up on Thursdays I have an almost uncontrollable urge to march into Regan National Airport and buy a ticket to anywhere East of the Atlantic Ocean. I find myself checking my bank account and thinking “yes, yes, I think I could do a weekend in Paris.” What the heck! Silly girl. . .