3 months to go . . .

I'm waiting to hear from my landlord if she'll let me sublet my apartment. This is a huge deal. If I can sublet, I won't have to deal with selling my furniture and moving all of my crap out of my 180-square-foot studio. I also won't have to deal with finding a place to live when I move back in a year. That means sidestepping having to live on an aerobed in my parents' apartment for god knows how long while I find a job.
The whole idea of having to move out of here is a complete nightmare. I have all these IKEA shelves installed, and ridiculous amounts of crap. Would I be able to sell everything? I guess the money would come in handy, and I could move into my parents' place for all of September while I dealt with packing and visas. But just the thought makes me freak out a little.
But other people do this stuff all the time. They move annually and deal with storage fees and not fully unpacking. Can I deal with that, too? I thrive on feeling settled, on having a comfortable home-base that feels like me.
I love my apartment. I love the way it smells like lavender and face cream, that I know exactly where everything is, and that it's all mine. What if I put things in storage, and then go to Paris and realize I've forgotten something crucial? What do I do? Do I live without it, or buy a new one? What if I don't bring a cardigan/pair of earrings/perfume that I need?
What if just can't hack being on my own, away from my parents and stuff? I like to think that I'm independent. I've lived alone for 3 years and crave my quiet time. In fact, if I don't get enough personal space I get quite cranky. Does that mean I'll thrive on being alone in Paris? Or will I freak out at the bizarreness of speaking French all the time, with no reprieve?
Part of me thinks I'll be fine. I remember going a week speaking nothing but French the summer I was 16, in Arcachon. After all that time I found that I needed a break, but I was okay. I was rather proud of myself, I seem to remember.
Needless to say, I'm having lots of doubts. What will I do with all my time? Will I be able to support myself on 752 euros a month? Will I find a job teaching English? Will the Red Wheelbarrow hire me? Will I have to resort to being a mistress in order to eat? Will I ever be able to afford a Vanessa Bruno dress?
I realize that some of these questions are besides the point. Most likely I'll shop at the Monoprix for generic L'Oreal and Fructis products, eat cold tabbouleh and lots of brie and bread. I'll have a carte orange and wear my Sauconys to run errands, and never take a cab. I'll while away a few afternoons writing in a cafe or wandering the halls of the Musee d'Orsay, but I'll do my fair share of sleeping in and wasting time, thereby feeling incredibly guilty that I'm not out being more French. I'll travel to Spain, Italy, Prague, and still not feel as if I'm taking enough advantage of my location. I'll come back a year from now desperate for mac and cheese, but not sure I did everything I wanted to do.
It's so hard to be in this state. I'm on the verge of going (3 months!) but nothing is near ready. I have no home, no visa, no assignment to a school. It doesn't feel real, so I'm floundering.
I just hope Beth lets me sublet. Please oh please don't make me move out of here on top of everything else. Please please please.