The only odd untouchable number

Friday was a slow day. I got up really late – or at least that’s what I thought, since there was bright sunshine coming through my undraped window. When I went upstairs to get breakfast (oh yeah – I should have mentioned my room is in the basement, one reason for its Siberian temperatures) my mom was just about to leave (to meet you-know-who for who knows what). So I was alone in the house again. No biggy, thought I, my breakfast can also be comfyly taken in front of an episode of Lost (!). After that I got dressed (duh… first tip of exciting blogging: do not write the obvious), made me some nice hot tea and got crackin’ on that book I have to read for my upcoming exam (700 pages, yay!).

After a short yet nerve-racking intermission in which my mom and her guy showed up unexpected “to grab a cup of coffee” – which means they set up camp in the kitchen, next to the living room where I was, to make disgusting smooching noises and pretend I wasn’t there – I decided it was time to take my dog for a walk in the forest. It was much nicer this time, since I didn’ t leave in a hurry, which means we had plenty of time to wander little winding paths, and the sun was shining, which is always a pleasant companion. Still, my dog is an expert in finding puddles. He seriously hunts down every single one of them along our way, not to drink from them (which he occasionally does), but to wad through them. The muddier, the better. In conclusion, his whole lower half was wet and dirty. Now this doesn’t bother me, since I come prepared with jeans that can be shaken against and footwear the equivalent of a four-wheel-drive, but can you imagine the moms at my little sis’ school, when I was standing there waiting for her to come out? Priceless fun! One actually screamed at her kid to not go near us. I’m guessing that means I’m a good influence on the little one.

The evening was then spent eating a heated-up meal by my mom, some more series and some more reading. In between all that: a call to The BF, who is sadly very tired and breaking out a cold. I wish I could be there to cuddle him and make him feel better, but alas all I can do is miss him.

When angry, count four; when very angry, swear (Mark Twain)

Thursday was a day for which I actually set my alarm. Got up at nine, was ready to leave by ten, because that’s when my mom said we would be driving back into Paris. I should know by now that that means we leave at half past. But anyway, I took it upon myself to endure the crazy french driving (getting worse every day) and the stressful city, because we were going to a shop called Thanksgiving. It’s run by Americans and sells food from back there, which we needed to buy as a preparation for our Christmas dinner. Unfortunately, my mom also told me that if I wanted anything I should get it. Maybe she was just tired of hearing me say: oh look! They have this… and this! …. and this! Needless to say, we left there with two bags filled and a lot less cash on our hands.

After that, she thought we would go walk around in the nearby quarter of the Marais and find someplace to eat. I thought we would just be in and out, which is why I was so glad I found the right street right away and a parking slot right next door (also, it was drizzling). We finally made a compromise and decided to go to our “usual” Chinese, whichwould be on the way to our next stop (which I didn’t know we were going to either). It was very yummy, and the people there are very nice. It also gave me the opportunity to have a serious (albeit surprisingly pleasant) talk with my mom (about her moving and relationships) and I could bring back a wall calender for my little sister (which she was very excited about), but it still took out a bunch of time. Then we still had to go to a mall (which I thought was totally out of the way, but whatever) to pick up a picture my little sister had taken with Santa Clause (which she thinks is the real one – isn’t that cute?) and where I had to convince my mom that I wasn’t interested in going shopping (as usual). Especially since by then it was rather late, and all I could think about were all the pages I had wanted to read for my exam that day.

Stop four, at four o’clock, is always back home, since then it’s time to pick up the little one from her school. With the pleasant side effect of scaring the poised and superior look of the faces of the other moms, when they see me coming to pick her up with my fat, docile dog. Oh the horror! All the while he was surrounded by at least eight hands eager to scratch his ears, all tripping over themselves and stepping on his paws, but just sat there, panting from the walk. When we all got home, I was pretty pooped too, but also excited about finishing my family tree. I spent the rest of the evening typing the names and dates in and trying to find the towns on Google Earth. This also conveniently gave me an excuse to not have to interact with my moms guy, since he was over to visit (again…) and staying for dinner.