Muchos are salty and delicious

The reFrenching of Rose continues at a slow and steady pace: I can ask for things to drink, eat, tell you when my birthday is, ask about things, count, know days of the week, months, a few colors and hold tiny, trite conversations.

This shouldn't be too much of a problem, considering I apparently adore trite.

I found out the other day that a co-worker is bilingual in French. I thought this was fantastic and thought about asking her to talk with me to help along my French.

But I haven't asked her yet.

Why? Am I afraid she'll say 'no' and laugh at me? A little.

Mostly, I'm afraid I won't be able to have time for it.

I know how ridiculous this sounds. I have plenty of time on my hands, right?

I don't know, I can't be arsed to paint my toenails, how can I be sure I won't regret asking her to hang out and chat French?

Completely ridiculous, I know.

There must be something wrong with me.