Goodbyes are never fun, but Nimes is.

Its officially wallowing time.

There is an episode of Gilmore Girls (the funniest, wittiest, all around best show that use to be on television) where Rory absolutely refuses to wallow after a unexpected break up with her dreamy boyfriend Dean. Lorelai enthusiastically urges Rory to eat ice cream, cry her eyes out, and confront the pain-- or else it will never go away-- but instead, Rory goes to the store to buy mundane, meaningless things, does her homework, and attempts to stay emotionally ignorant with business.

Well, I prefer to wallow Rory style. I have perfected it to an art, as I must say goodbye to Zach six or seven times a year after week long visits, as he goes to school at Cornell and lives on Long Island and I go to school at OU and live in Tulsa (or France!).

My plan of attack is always the same: keep busy. Hang out with friends. Have my mom take me shopping. Watch Gilmore Girls. Clean my room. Re-read a favorite book.

Yesterday was no exception-- especially as a new plan of non-wallowing attack stumbled upon me as I was walking back to my apartment after saying goodbye to Zach at the bus station. I was sniffling a bit, reliving Zach and I's best memories in Aix while contemplating which sponge I would use to clean my shower when I arrived home, when I saw a crowd of students in front of the tourist office waiting for a bus.

Quite suddenly, it dawned on me. There was an organized trip to Nimes, an old Roman city in southern France, scheduled for Sunday. This was my perfect non-wallowing solution. I quickly asked George, an older French man and organizer of the trip, if there were any extra places on the bus for me. He said he didn't think so, but that if there were, I would be the first to get a spot.

Karinne and Haley eventually showed up, already having booked their spots on the bus. I sadly watched them board, hoping that someone had overslept their alarm and would miss out on Nimes so I could avoid any shedding of tears later at my apartment (and the accumulation of hair that I know, but don't know, is the reason my shower won't drain).

Five minutes after the bus was scheduled to leave, George excitedly waved me on the bus. Only one person had not showed. It was a God thing.

So, my shower is still not clean and still resembles a bubblebath after a five minute shower. Instead, I had a wonderful day of sightseeing with my friends.

For once, I think Lorelai was wrong. Yes-- its good to gorge on ice cream and cry you eyes out-- but it is better to go travel across France and stay busy seeing things I know I will remember for years. I like non-wallowing, and I'm sticking to it.