Yesterday marked the last day of our classes at the alliance francaise, at least for now; while most of their offerings (read: those during the day) continue on, the evening classes that we attend are spun down through the months of July and August, as historically, effectively nobody shows up.
In true poindexter-like fashion, however, we decided that we would “finish strong” and attend the last of our respective classes; the final accounting saw three in attendance in the Purrito’s class, while four people were in my own (typical class sizes for each of us hovered between 8 and 12).
Though we knew better, we paid for our obstinacy; the alliance is most certainly not air conditioned, and the stand fans that are in the rooms were hardly respite from the 102° F heat that Paris was subjected to yesterday.
To say that, at the end of the two hours, we were soaked would be an understatement. Not wishing to introduce any additional heat into our already toasty flat, we grabbed food from our usual post-class café, where, in retrospect, I managed to leave one of my handkerchiefs on the table (it didn’t tie the room together or anything, but it was, unfortunately, one of the nicer ones that the Purrito bought for me during our time here).
Lesson learned: we should have been at home, on the floor, panting in front of the fans alongside the cats.
Fezzik In Paris 