Idle Hands

I hate the phone. I really do. Not because of some anarchist, anti-consumer philosophy. I just hate talking on the phone, for the most part. I will email until my fingers fall off to avoid a phone conversation with someone I don't really feel like talking to. This aversion is multiplied by about 1000 in French. Which is just silly because every time I've had to have phone conversations in French (with Ikea, the bank, my inspectrice) it's really no big deal. I much prefer to talk to someone face-to-face in French, if only so they can see my face when I stumble and realize that French isn't my first language and I'm flustered, not a moron. Sigh.
Anyway, I called MICEFA today to make an appointment with the resident director to get all my classes approved, and while I was on the phone with Barbara, I asked her about Nanterre registration. She gave me the office hours of M. Louys, the crazy man who lets you take level 4 classes if you test into 2. I also got the new location and tentative start date for my MICEFA class. One easy phone call, maybe 5 minutes, and I am almost totally at ease with the transition to second semester. Why do I avoid phone calls?
Anyway, this week started out lamely because as I was walking to the metro yesterday morning, I realized that the 100 songs I downloaded onto my ipod the night before hadn't updated. I am usually not about the ipod while commuting, if only because I'm paranoid about disabling one of my senses in public. But after my winter break travels and the hours spent in airports and on buses, I've rediscovered the practicality of the ipod. If only because it gives me a boost when I'm on the train at 6:45 in the morning, drinking coffee from my theromos (much to the disgust of the French people around me -- why can't this bitch drink a tiny cup of coffee at home like the rest of us?). Speaking of my commute. I've been meaning to write something about this but I always forget (maybe because I'm exhausted at the end of every work day).
So after about a month of this bullshit 7:18 train, in the pitch black, twice a week, one day I realized that between La Defense and St. Cloud, about, when the train goes parallel to the west side of Paris, I can see the Eiffel Tower. Okay, I can see the band of lights on the second floor that they leave on after they turn off the main lights sometime during the night. So I started sitting on the left side of the train (or right side on the way home, though it's usually foggy in the evening and I can't see it anymore) every morning so I could see the little band of lights and slight outline of the tower and remember that I'm in Paris. Well a couple weeks ago I was watching the tower and my eyes drifted northwest. What do you know, there was the Arc de Triomphe! I had no idea how tall it was, or that it stayed lit up all night, but it's there and it gives me a little boost every morning now. The real treat of the commute is some evenings when I'm coming home and it's clear enough to see Sacre Coeur way in the distance. Paris is really small, the monuments are really tall, and the buildings are really short. Between sleeping in my tiny studio and commuting out to this little town, or to Nanterre, I forget that I live in the tourism capital of the world.

On a totally different note, my paycheck just cleared in my bank account, so today I'm going to head to the lovely lavender store to buy some dresses, maybe a hat and a scarf (although the scarf I liked once upon a time hasn't been restocked). I am totally OCD about clothes and if I only have one of something, I can never deem it a special enough day to wear it. So I find something I like, then buy it in several colors and styles. Then it becomes normal and I can wear it to class or work. There is also a gorgeous store down the street (Nina Kendosa, for the neighborhood peeps) and I will probably stop by there to check if anything is still on sale. The signs at the mall have gone from 2nd markdown to last markdown, so now's the time to strike, if there's anything good left.