Fact: some people are good at life. Others are bad at it. Count me in the latter group. As I talked to my good friend Jeff Wells yesterday on the phone, as he helped me try to work out what to do since I’d so royally screwed up my housing plans for the Cannes Film Fest he said, “you know, travel planning isn’t exactly your …” And he didn’t even need to finish the sentence. No, travel planning, planning at all, isn’t my…

I’d thought I was way ahead of the game this year. I’d gone on VRBO and knew I was hitting it a few months early so that I could find exactly the kind of little place in Cannes I dreamed about. In my sad little fantasy, I would be staying in the Le Suquet area of Cannes, the medieval village, instead of a nice B&B I stayed in last year.

I found just the one. A wood fireplace, a view of the sea, a sweetly designed kitchen. The perfect place. The perfect place only someone with great planning habits could muster. I did it all early enough, that was key, because in a few months there would be nothing affordable, and nice, left. In a few months, you’d be looking at places that cost around $4,000 for ten days.

But not me. I was ahead of the game. Or so I thought. Because I’m me, a tragically stupid person who makes all of the wrong choices (“you know, Sasha,” my friend Emily told me in high school, “You’ll always be a fuck up.”) I neglected to check the map. I assumed that Le Suquet could only apply to the medieval village in Cannes when, in fact, I just figured out it applies to all old towns in France! Though I’d picked a place in an old town, it was, as it turned out, 45 miles outside of Cannes, which meant about a half-hour’s drive in and out of Cannes every day.

But the real deal-breaker, besides the costly gas, was that I was bringing Emma. And the thought of leaving her behind, that far away, all day long, in a foreign country was, well, not a good arrangement. But guess what? I’d already paid for it. Cash gone. When I begged and pleaded with the owner she informed me, out of a courtesy, she would refund half of my money. So, like $500. The other $500 I’d have to watch swirl down the toilet bowl.

So goes the adventures of a dumb person.

Starting Sunday, I will be reporting from Juan-Les-Pins, which is just four miles outside of Cannes. I have rented a car – which immediately makes me think there are parking tickets, fender benders and other minor horrors in my future. It’s a manual shift! I haven’t driven one of those in a very very long time. Like 20 years or something like that. “Don’t worry, we can walk to the curb from here.”

On the upside? Everything IN France is kind of nice.