There’s a vacuum in my head. OK, I know . . . there probably has been, always. But it’s noticeable to even me, now. It occupies the space where 10-months of waiting, wonder, and worry were. Now I’m paralyzed. Paralyzed and broke. New laptop, chargers . . . short-wave radio that receives the BBC, so I can stay current with the Open Championship this summer. St. Andrews, you know. I’m still staring at the magical PC Invitation kit. As promised, it’s a kit. Sure, I’ve done the passport/visa part; made my travel plans (6:45 a.m. flight to Philly). But have I done anything else? Nothing! I’m paralyzed . . . just staring at the television with old French lessons. Staring and repeating an occasional already-memorized idiom may not count as preparing for over two years abroad.

Should I have a garage sale? Should I organize and bundle-away my N-scale trains? Have I decided on a garmet for the Peace Corps patch? Shouldn’t I read everything possible about Burkina Faso? If I sleep with a French book under my pillow, will it help? Or shall I just sit, enjoy air-conditioning, and stare with the expression of a deer-in-the-headlights? We can only speculate.