An undisclosable source rolled over at the Chateau this morning and informed me that I had been yelling in Italian in my sleep. This is a relief because one if my greatest fears is that America will render me monotongue. Not good in a State where the driving is so bad that being able to source insults from three languages is an absolute plus - generally while they pause to scratch their head you can execute some kind of borderline legal maneuver, euro-style. If I recall correctly, in my dream I was trying to book us a hotel in Rome, so then the shouting would make perfect sense. And hopefully not too terrifying for my witness. It's the wild gesticulation I'm more worried about: you can take the girl out of Sicily...
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