My life is on strike

Let's start at the beginning.

Yesterday I decided that, barring some sort of nuclear attack, I was going to make it to work. I set my alarm for 5:45, spent 0% of my time lollygagging, and managed to be out the door with coffee, lunch, and snack by 6:20 am. I went down to the bus stop and spent about 5 minutes praying before I realized that I might end up sitting there for half an hour and then totally missing my train and wasting all of this effort. So I decided to man up and walking to Chatelet, which is of course a good half an hour on foot. It was pitch black outside and it was cold, and I was totally disoriented. It looked a lot like that time Matt and I walked home from a club in St. Germain des Près at 5 am, and we saw people walking to work. Well now I was one of those crazy people walking to work before sunrise. So anyway, I made it in pretty good time, and the blessed line 14 pulled up just as I got to the platform. I arrived at the St. Lazare platform and waited only a couple minutes before a train arrived. My train was posted to leave at 7:24, but I was sitting down and leaving the station at 7:12. So maybe the train was really early, maybe really late. Whatever. Je me suis débrouillée!

The rest of the day was pretty standard, and easy because I was teaching about America and anglophones so I just did the same lesson 6 times. After work I trekked to the Marly train station, but I had missed the 4:42 so I had to wait until 5:11. I snoozed a little on the train until we got to La Défense and all of humanity bombarded the train. It was dark when we got to St. Lazare. It really freaks me out that when I leave for work and come back in the evening, the sky looks pretty much the same. Line 14 was a breeze as usual, but then came the issue. I did NOT want to walk. I was exhausted and starving. So I went to the bus stop and waited. I waited half an hour. I'm pretty sure I waited so long because my hunger and fatigue put me into some sort of hypoglycemic shock and I was partially passed out. But I was pretty sure no bus was coming, so I walked. I walked from Hôtel de Ville, across the river, through Notre Dame, across the river again, down St. Germain des Prés, up Mont St. Geneviève. It's very romantic and tragic to be walking in Paris with all of these amazing architectural feats around and just hating it because the city is kicking your ass. I felt like Carrie in "Anchors Away" when she realizes that she and New York don't have the perfect relationship. I was hanging on by a thread when I got home. I ate some hot tomato soup and watched some Ugly Betty and felt normal again.

Next debacle. Hot water heater is on strike, too. Last night the water was pretty lukewarm and it hasn't improved since. I used my boulloire to make hot water to wash my face this morning. This might mean that I have to shower at the gym until this is fixed. I think those showers might be communal. Gah. And I'd have to bring toiletries and flip flops and a towel and change of clothes. I miss PAC. I miss marble stalls and warm towels and guava lotion. Grrr.

Also, pretty much all of France is on strike right now. In addition to the Metro and the students, the fonctionnaires went on strike today. Since everything in France is state-run, pretty much everyone works for the government. Teachers, sanitation workers, the people working on my carte de séjour at the préfecture. Basically we're all screwed. Even if I wanted to go class, and I managed to get there by train or something, and the buildings weren't blocked by protesting students, my professor probably wouldn't even be there. This country is bonkers, man.