Moving Day Only A Week Away!
(No photo today because the sky is the color of graying underwear.)
I'm moving - I'm crazed - I have a million (ok, only 899,000) annoying little details to attend to before the shippers come tomorrow - and meanwhile I have this almost fervent urge to blog, to write, to paint, to stand on my head and get the blood flowing, to complete at least one of the many projects I promised myself I would finish before I left Paris - but nooooo, I must not stray from the task at hand! I must be diligent and organized and efficient, because, because, well, because if I'm not then... all hell might break loose!
OK. I'm a bit calmer now after my walk. I forced myself to leave the house before the sun went down, because - oh yeah! - that's another thing I want to do, get in shape! And there is just no time to do everything I want to do, because, well, there is no time! (Weird how that is...you can trudge about for months, feeling like time is this long spool of thread you're obliged to unwind, slowly and hypnotically and always in the same direction, and then all of a sudden time becomes a whirling dervish knocking all your tables over, and all you can do is grab what you can and run!)
Here's what I saw on my walk, in case you're curious:
- a man wearing a red scarf
- a man who looked like Harvey Keitel (but only from a distance)
- at least 12 woman pushing baby strollers (separately, of course)
- a flock of teenagers outside a school, giddy and screaming (was I really ever one of them? I can't imagine getting giddy about anything at the moment, except perhaps a hot meal cooked by someone else)
- an acquaintance whom I had just been thinking about, but never thought I'd see again, who was the subject of some mild gossip which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me but which upsets me (mildly) nonetheless
And finally - as I was leaving the park, an older Frenchman passed me and said what sounded like: "Tu as une belle chasse," which makes no sense because chasse means "hunt." I have a nice hunt? Huh? Maybe he said "Tu as une belle chatte" - which is vulgar, to say the least (and not a typical older Frenchman's one-liner). Or perhaps he said "Tu es une belle chiasse" - I am a beautiful pain in the ass? Yeah, well....aren't we all?
I'm moving - I'm crazed - I have a million (ok, only 899,000) annoying little details to attend to before the shippers come tomorrow - and meanwhile I have this almost fervent urge to blog, to write, to paint, to stand on my head and get the blood flowing, to complete at least one of the many projects I promised myself I would finish before I left Paris - but nooooo, I must not stray from the task at hand! I must be diligent and organized and efficient, because, because, well, because if I'm not then... all hell might break loose!
OK. I'm a bit calmer now after my walk. I forced myself to leave the house before the sun went down, because - oh yeah! - that's another thing I want to do, get in shape! And there is just no time to do everything I want to do, because, well, there is no time! (Weird how that is...you can trudge about for months, feeling like time is this long spool of thread you're obliged to unwind, slowly and hypnotically and always in the same direction, and then all of a sudden time becomes a whirling dervish knocking all your tables over, and all you can do is grab what you can and run!)
Here's what I saw on my walk, in case you're curious:
- a man wearing a red scarf
- a man who looked like Harvey Keitel (but only from a distance)
- at least 12 woman pushing baby strollers (separately, of course)
- a flock of teenagers outside a school, giddy and screaming (was I really ever one of them? I can't imagine getting giddy about anything at the moment, except perhaps a hot meal cooked by someone else)
- an acquaintance whom I had just been thinking about, but never thought I'd see again, who was the subject of some mild gossip which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me but which upsets me (mildly) nonetheless
And finally - as I was leaving the park, an older Frenchman passed me and said what sounded like: "Tu as une belle chasse," which makes no sense because chasse means "hunt." I have a nice hunt? Huh? Maybe he said "Tu as une belle chatte" - which is vulgar, to say the least (and not a typical older Frenchman's one-liner). Or perhaps he said "Tu es une belle chiasse" - I am a beautiful pain in the ass? Yeah, well....aren't we all?
posted by wampoline at 5:38 PM
2 Comments:
Hang in there, Caroline! Can't wait to have you on this side of the Atlantic!
Thanks for taking the few minutes out to post, so enjoyably as always. All the very best of luck with the latest upheaval -- we hope it's as easy and fun as our move UPstairs was (oh, but we did have an elevator!)
xo, l&t
Post a Comment
<< Home