Save for a couple moments, I've spent the last couple of days just hibernating. The fog and fatigue of moving and disorientation is finally starting to wear off, though I'm not sure if that's because I'm comfortable or I'm just freaking out about finals and a paper so I'm forcing myself to deal.
On Sunday morning I got up at a normal time to hit up Champion. I'd already mapped out the grocery stores in my new neighborhood, but then I realized that I wouldn't be up for shopping on Saturday and that the chances of finding a grocery store on Sunday are slim. Luckily, this particular Champion is open until 1 pm on Sunday. Unluckily, the entire world was in on the secret and the place was totally packed. After I fought my way through and got back home, I ate lunch and went to the gym like a normal Sunday afternoon. Lauren got in that evening and we went out to the 11th to meet up with Mike, eat some kebabs, and wait for their friend Zac to show up. On the way to meet Mike we drank some canned prosecco that Lauren had bought on a plane from Prague, then followed it up with some limoncello in their hotel room and some South African wine on the Pont des Arts. I decided we should be very cheesy and drink wine on the Pont des Arts and watch the 1 am Eiffel Tower light show. Unfortunately Zac left the wine at my place so Lauren and I went to get it, and when we came back they had been cornered by two drunk/stoned jackasses. It was all well and good until Mike and Zac were really ready to leave. I ended up getting in a little French spat with one of them because he wouldn't give my wine glass back (and had already broken another of them). I finally realized I should give it up because the last thing I needed was to get stabbed by some banlieusard-mahgrebain in the middle of the night. So we moved our selves to the statue at Odeon and ended the night there.
On Monday morning, Lauren and I woke up after about 6 hours of sleep and hit up Starbucks before seeing the 10:25 am showing of Sex and the City at UGC Danton. It was a very American experience. And after we met up with the guys to get some crepes and so they could help Lauren get her to stuff to the bus station.
After they left, I listened to a voice message from my ex-property manager, telling me that the studio wasn't clean enough the way I left it. Of course I nearly vomited because the last thing I want to do is give up part of my security deposit for cleaning. When I moved out of the Villas they had a professional cleaning crew come in before they could turn the apartment over, and I feel like an hour or two with one person cleaning after a 9 month stay isn't totally ridiculous. But unfortunately I think I'm going to have to pay for it. The property manager said that she'd explain to the cleaning lady that (in French) "the current generation of young people has a different understanding of house-cleaning." How fucking insulting. I know she's trying to help me out but I don't think my age has anything to do with it. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that even though I asked her to, the property manager never came before I moved out to tell me what needed to be done in the apartment. My lease is according to California law, therefore I am entitled to a scheduled inspection. Oh well. I'll probably end up paying for it because my landlady hates me and jumps at the chance to get hysterical over any perceived mistake.
So I tried to take a nap yesterday but it just wasn't happening. Instead I tried to soothe my nerves with sedentary eating and Queer as Folk. It sort of worked. However today I have a final that I need to at least brush up on before I take it. Although I also slept 11 1/2 hours last night, so I think I can handle it. And then on Thursday I'm making up the final I missed last week. I'm resenting this whole week a bit because it's just making me want to leave Paris, but I know that I don't actually want to get out of here. When I get back will be a whole new set of drama with apartment-finding and moving and summer school and work. It's just never-ending no matter what you do.
An American Brat in Paris
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