Immigrating to Europe | When The Delusion Spreads.

So I'm delusional. I get that. Completely insane, mental- I'm a self-confessed nutter. Remember Sandra Bullock's character in Demolition Man and her fascination with 80's paraphernalia? I'm the same way but with Europe. I just finished my LED lit Euro shower complete with hand sprayer. My bathroom is painted in the colors of Tuscany, and my Kitchen is Italian yellow with black cupboards. All this is really nothing more than a drug to give me a "fix" to keep my true desires from rising to the surface and making irrational decisions. Forget the roaming Daleks in our house my son owns, John Barroman's framed signature on the wall or the streaming French radios station playing from my purpose built server on the flat screen that multi-tasks to allow us watch British TV. Forget it all. Because it just got worse. I've just pulled others into my delusion. Like Freddy Krueger in a Nightmare on Elm Street I'm screeching my nails across other people's minds and sucking them into my own mad psychosis.

That's right, before it was mostly just me. Something has changed now. I think I sucked my spouse into my life damaging delusion, because all she can talk about now is moving abroad too. She's always been a bit partial to my ideas, but now it's almost like she's weighing those irrational options just as much as me. 

    Option 1: Live out our lives in peaceful bliss satisfying our Euro drug use with British chocolate, Spanish wine, and a occasional baguette here in the States.
      Problem with this is of course the more drugs you take, the higher your tolerances... eventually it will become impossible to self-medicate and it's not likely to be effective, nor financially possible.

    Option 2: Run far, far away and live in a cardboard box somewhere hoping immigration never figures it out.
      As great as this sounds, and they do give all the homeless free puppies in Brussels, it's probably not the best parenting.


    Option 3: Show up somewhere, renounce citizenship, apply for a Schengen visa and never come back to the states.

      Honestly... I'm not past doing this.... We will list this one under our "last resort" list.

    Option 4: Find a legal way to get in to a foreign country.
      There are none. At Least not for retarded farm girls like myself.


    Option 5: Go to school and pray despite not being all that religious.

      Pursuing this... I just don't have a crap load of patience, but I'm working on that.

    Option 6: Get pregnant while abroad.
      Baby tourism... Hmmmm..... I'll think on this one.... it's not a question of if, it's a question of how?

    Option 7: Divorce my spouse and marry someone abroad.
      Don't think we both haven't thought about it..... It's just we don't really like anyone else all that much.

    Option 8: Commit a heinous crime and get incarcerated abroad.
      What does it say that foreign prisons seem more enjoyable than living in America?

    Option 9: Become a missionary.
      The whole "I don't believe in God" thing sort of gets in the way. Though I'm willing to pretend.

Of course we're taking suggestions for the list.

So back to the matter at hand. I've done so well at convincing Shannon of going, I've sucked her in. Her hopes and dreams are now riding on a company transfer. Of course we both know, if we're honest, that's not likely to happen. It's like playing the lotto though... for a moment you get to dream. Sadly I don't know what we're both going to do when the dream isn't realized, and we're still here with nothing but a refrigerator full of imported cheese and wine. I'm worried... it's a virus, the worse disease ever, a mental mind-fuck which totally screws up the individual, and I'm spreading it like a lesbian monkey with a STD. In fact I recommend that readers stop reading what I write immediately in fear of coming down with it yourself. I suppose I've said too much already, and I must now go crawl up in the fetal position in the corner of my Euro shower with it's rotating LED light show, a bottle of Spanish Porto all the while I listen to George Micheal playing out of 88.3 streaming from Brussels. George Micheal?

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