Despite the peep show for the neighbors every evening, our new place is in working order. And I finally feel like I live here, too. But that means I am fully responsible for all those dishes in the sink. And I no longer ask myself, “Now why am I cleaning someone else’s toilet?” because I am washing our own.
Anyway, although Parisians are grumpy grumblers by nature, nothing ticks them off more than the weather. Delayed terrace time is an unacceptable tragedy that must be avenged! “How dare it rain the week before we leave to Tahiti for vacation?” Yes, it has been rainy here. But excuse an optimistic American for a minute, but isn’t forever Spring like forever young? I’ll happily accept the sporadic rain to the magnified diversity of body odor(s) on the Metro.
Groan. Sigh. Oh la la la la.
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