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Friday, June 8, 2012

A Day in the Life of...

Well, it's easily three months since I bid adieu to Portugal (and apparently my good intentions to update this blog weekly.) But it has been a relatively busy three months.

Several people have asked me over the past months (okay, it might be past years) to describe what a typical day is for me here in France. I've hesitate simply because when you work from home like I do, it's not terribly exciting. I mean, the work can be exciting for me but hardly bears up in the telling.

But just before I'd left for Portugal this past January, I'd sent what was intended to be a quick synopsis to a friend here on evening who'd asked how my day had gone:

  • Lousy night's sleep from nagging tendinitis in left shoulder
  • woke up to full daylight
  • thought, "Damn, it's already 8am?
  • looked at the clock. It wasn't 8; it was after 9
  • jumped out of bed, clocking myself on the overhead beam
  • raced downstairs, put out Tilly, fed Tilly, hung out laundry, put out Tilly again 
  • threw together breakfast and started working
  • skipped lunch, continued working; timer on the laptop reminded me of my first shoulder therapy appointment at 3:30pm
  • remembered my sister's birthday; remembered the post office closes at 3pm
  • pulled out a card for her and one for a friend I'd also meant to send
  • wrote them both
  • checked laundry on the line (still wet)
  • left early to catch the 3pm post
  • passed the postal van going in the other direction at 2:58pm
  • posted cards anyway
  • followed vaguely incomprehensible directions from therapist to office right in my village (naturally, neither my GPS nor viamichelin.com had ever heard of it)
  • confirmed directions were bad when I found myself driving round in a circle twice
  • decided to be adventurous even though, with my sense of direction, the odds were against me
  • felt better when I remembered I had brought their phone number
  • felt worse when I realized I didn't have my phone
  • drove around with an eye on the clock wondering if I'd have time beforehand to walk Tilly
  • drove around with an eye on the clock wondering if I'd arrive on time
  • drove around with an eye on the clock wondering if I'd ever find the damn place
  • found the place with 10 minutes to spare and let Tilly out for a cursory walk
  • had an encounter with a large terrier-type dog who was old and docile
  • jumped when Tilly shrieked like she'd been attacked instead of sniffed (memories of that damned Alsatian on November 11th no doubt)
  • managed to calm her and coax a meeting of the noses before going our separate ways 
  • walked through this hamlet I'd never known was in my own village and thought, yet again, how much I love France
  • looked at my watch, realized I was going to have to jog back to make it on time; Tilly enjoyed this and kept trying to bite my shoes
  • met the maire (mayor, who's the resident chiropractor) who apologized when I said we'd met before because he didn't remember
  • discovered the man on the phone who'd given me the bad directions was a young Romanian and my therapist
  • discovered he spoke some English (which he hadn't shared with me on the phone)
  • discovered he was actually very nice so I forgave him for his directions
  • had a good session
  • left my x-rays behind
  • thought about going back inside but decided not to bother as I was coming back the next day
  • let Tilly out of the car again for another short walk, this time in the opposite direction away from savage sniffing terrier
  • walked all the way down past a cattle farm 
  • Tilly tried to bully the cows; didn't work so she gave up
  • headed back to car, looked over my shoulder and saw a large Rottweiler in hot pursuit
  • gasped and grabbed frantically for Tilly who scampered out of reach
  • panicked when Tilly yelped in fear as she saw the dog
  • turned and shrieked, "NO!" to the dog who stopped in its tracks, apparently confused
  • grabbed Tilly; strode nervously out of sight of the Rottweiler
  • reached car; Tilly leaped into the backseat for a change
  • drove an alternate route home which turned out to be direct, unlike the directions I'd gotten
  • wondered why the therapist hadn't told me that
  • stopped for bread and impulsively added a croissant, admired the baker's cunningly decorated "foret noire" cakes with meringue mushrooms and told him so, shrugged apologetically when I told him to put it back when he started to wrap it up for me
  • drove home
  • checked laundry (still soaking)
  • came inside to do work, Tilly's toy frog intervened as he wanted to play and she felt I should be made aware of this
  • grabbed a spoonful of foie gras on crackers to have while working.
Yeah, pretty much just a day in the life of...(in France, you understand, that includes foie gras.)

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