It is bright sunny and that is deceptive. It should be warm. It is NOT warm. In fact, it was in the 40s this morning and I think the high is 51. Where oh where are the 70s? The long range forecast has some 70s popping up. But the forecasters are sadists, I think. Teasing me. Not nice. Pas gentile.
Scooters. The new thing in Paris. The kind you put your two feet on and then zip away under electric power. I do not like the scooters. I haven’t tried one. What if I lose my balance and fall over? Not risking it. AND it’s now illegal to use them on sidewalks. That means you are out scooting in the streets with the crazy drivers and big buses. Really? It was bad enough when the kids were using them with their foot power. But adults? Going fast? And what’s worse is that they just drop them anywhere. The scooters litter the streets. Standing up in a row. Lying on their sides, every which way, blocking sidewalks. I hate them. I think Paris is becoming displeased – hence the law re no sidewalk use. Hefty fines. And there are a multitude of companies providing the scooters. I read there will be more fees required of them in the future. It’s all done on line. You download the ap. Put in your credit card info. Search for a scooter. It hooks you up with one around you and sends a signal to the scooter to beep at you until you claim in. And you ride away and then just get off and dump it.
It’s another Saturday and my buses are screwed up. Those damn Gilet Jaune. But that’s ok. I have been going too fast – no real break since my trip to the Netherlands. I planned to stay in bed all day. Lasted til noon. Did a bit of shopping – everything around me is closed tomorrow on Sunday. Got a croissant and baguette. And some chicken. OMG. It sounds like I might even cook! I’m taking a break from Grey’s Anatomy, my new binge show.
I go back to the US in 17 wake ups. And before then, I have to send at least one more box home. I might send two. I’ve started packing my duffle. Still room and only 25 lbs. I’m going to have to put everything else into the suitcase and see how much that weighs. And then take mostly everything out because I am still here for 17 days. But this is my normal returning-after-more-than-6-months routine.
And my thoughts are turning back to California. Today as I was taking ice cubes out for my drink, I remembered that I have an ice maker in my fridge. Automatic ice! What a concept. And even though both the apartments on this trip had dishwashers, and this one has a separate clothes dryer, I am still looking forward to my appliances.
The clothes dryer here is wonderful. I don’t have to plan out my washing. When should I wash? How long will it take for the clothes to air dry? Can I put them in front of the heater? Nope, just open the washer, take the clothes out, throw them in the dryer. But the clothes don’t ever come out American fluffy. I miss fluffy. Soon!!
Monday is tax day. This is the first time ever I have asked for an extension. Every other time I have been back in the States in January, February and March. I sat at my computer and got everything organized and sent it. This time, I actually grabbed all the documents I needed and brought them over, but I just can’t seem to get motivated to do them here in Paris. My accountant is a dedicated “dear reader” of this blog. She texts me from the hospital that she just underwent heart surgery. Yikes. This is the kind of thing I hate to have happen. I want to go visit her. She should be home now. I want to see how she’s doing. And all I can do for now is text and add her to my blog with best wishes for a speedy recovery.
I can’t blog these days without a mention of tango. I was having lessons at least a day apart – except last week. Our schedules did not mesh so I had an appointment on Wednesday at 11 and then Thursday at 6 pm. I really thought my head was going to explode, to say nothing of my aching feet. She told me that an intensive course like I was taking was difficult. There was so much to impart and so much to learn in such a short period. OK, folks. I’m dumb. I just figured I was taking lessons. She’s right. She has put together a very intensive course for me. She tries to repeat and build on the lessons. I’m getting my money’s worth out of her. And she is exhausting me. And I had mentioned this earlier, but now, suddenly, I am eager to dance. To go to milongas, to practicas, to group lessons. That’s the only way I will figure out how to put this all together. Using the wall or the buffet as a partner, to practice pivots, etc., is just not cutting it.
In the museums these days, the guards are usually sticklers about back packs. You must wear them across your chest, not back. So you don’t run into other visitors and also, so you don’t run into and topple over art – like the Venus de Milo. I wish someone did the same thing in metros. I got smacked several different times last week by back pack wearers. OMG what did they have in that back pack? It was as big as a large suitcase. And it hurt when it connected.
I am fading. Back to binge watching and relaxing.