This morning was not a good one for either of my daughters.
For the loaner, it meant getting up at 6:30 so that she could leave the house at 7:30 to meet her tour group. They're going down to York today to tour the Harley factory, as well as a candy factory and a shopping mall. She's never particularly chipper in the morning -- she told me that she normally sleeps until ten; the other day, when we made of point of letting her sleep, finally awakening her about 10:15, she was still groggy -- but this morning she was a zombie. I think the amusement park wiped her out. Any English she had is obviously stored in the higher order parts of her brain -- she communicated entirely with gestures, sounds, and the occasional Oui or Non. By the time we got over to the pickup point, she was a little better -- she was able to tell me that "It's raining" was "Il pleut" -- but not much. When the van finally arrived, she staggered to it, climbed inside, and collapsed.
For the permanent one, it was much worse. She's highly aggrieved that my wife is making her do tasks around the house. Nothing particularly onerous -- clean the dining room table, straighten her room -- but this morning, she -- well, lets just say that she let her inner bitch out. And that's someone we almost never get to see. Forty minutes later, when I let her out of the van for color guard practice, she was still pissed. She's going to have a fun day.
So right this minute, I would be perfectly willing to send the permanent one to France, and keep the loaner -- but what has France ever done to me?