So I’m moving to Barcelona.
No you’re not.
No really. I am. I’m moving to Barcelona, Spain.
I have to keep rotating between pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming and screaming, “Heffa! Have you lost your mind?” No, it’s not a dream. Yes, I have lost my mind. I can’t even speak Spanish, y’all! For real. I learned the basics in middle and high school, but then I took French. Everything got mixed up in my head. So, technically, I’m bilingual. I speak Spanench. Or Frenish. Whatever. I’m bilingual.
I didn’t tell anyone about this leap of faith (or leap of crazy. Pick one.) until I booked my flight and found a place to stay, and paid for it. I did it that way for two reasons. One, no one could say anything that would get me a full refund. And two, I couldn’t talk myself out of it and miss out on my dream. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. My spouse knew and my BFF. That’s it. I wasn’t enlisting any other opinions and even my BFF’s got kicked out.