Some Days

Some days -- most days -- you just want to be in Paris. Oh, Paris! Paris is so very Paris.

BUT.

Some days you want to be somewhere else.

Some days you want to be somewhere that is Not Paris because you want to be with someone dear to you who is far away, or some days it's because you want to be sitting your very own private garden, or relaxing some place that is just peaceful, or some days you just want to be Not In Paris.

Some days it's when the downstairs neighbor calls to say that your pipes are leaking on her bathroom ceiling because she claims there is a canalisation in your pipes and you wait five hours for her plumber who doesn't arrive, and then you realize the true meaning of canalisation when you are standing ankle-deep in backed-up really ugly water in the shower.

Some days it's when the only functioning light in the bathroom burns out and the other halogen light socket got its electrical cord snipped by a well-intentioned "helper," so if you don't find an expensive electrician in before nightfall it will be dark in the bathroom which is a very bad thing when there are embarrassing bottles of all colors and sizes cluttering the sink all of which will knock over because there isn't enough storage room in the damned apartment and it is too depressing to think of running an extension cord and spare lamp into the salle de bains.

Some days it's when your wireless internet connection has not been working for a week and you've played talkie-talkie-kissy-face with France Telecom who promises the world and delivers nothing and your sweet daughter who is as internet-addicted as you sits on the couch waiting for you to hand her the ethernet cord for her turn on line and you wouldn't trade having her here with you in Paris for anything but you can't really write or update your blog or run a home office or accomplish anything else that grown-ups have to accomplish while sitting cozily on the jumbled pull-out sofa with her which is where the mangled ethernet cord lives.

Some days it's when you are going nuts having to stand next to the ancient moldy washing machine in the kitchen to turn the knob from one cycle to the next for all five cycles because it's too decrepit to take that simple step on its own and you know you should buy a new washing machine but it's such a bother and expense and when this incompetent machine finally does finish the umpteenth load of laundry and the clothes are soaking wet instead of wrung almost dry and it will take years for them to air dry because it's cold and raining out side even though it's July.

Some days it's when you need to get errands done but like I said it's cold and raining and the thought of trudging to the Tresor Public to go over the dossier with the gentle kind gray man who methodically explained about the components of your taxe d'habitation in February and who very nicely sent you an abatement check after you paid the tax bill and sent him a copy of your lease and every official piece of imaginable paperwork and then three months later the Tresor sent you a bill for the same amount and you have to gather all the files again and the wind is blowing and the rain is spitting and you just want them to have figured it out correctly in the first place but oh well this is France.

Some days it's just like that.

But when Some Days arrive all on the Same Day -- well, it's time to call in the troops.