If you can’t get up the stairs or on the elevator…
If you can’t get up the stairs or on the elevator…
Our run along the Seine yesterday turned into an extended run/hike/run after we decided that we were far enough along and that it was early enough in the morning to make it to the Marché aux Oiseaux (open-air bird market on the Île de la Cité [the island in the Seine upon which Notre Dame …
As it turns out, the washing machine in our nice little apartment, itself located on a nice little street in a nice little neighborhood, sucks; aside from an unholy funk that has proven resistant to industrial-grade washing machine cleaner, it is incapable of handling more than a token amount of clothes at a given time, …
I am not used to being in such large groups of people and not understanding any of them. When I came to visit Geep a few weeks back, I didn’t venture out on my own very much. Plus, he was with me to have conversations with while we walked around. Now that most of the …
Packing is hard. Usually, it is not.
Under normal circumstances, I would consider myself a member of the reductionist/wing-it movement; if there is even a hint of doubt regarding whether I’ll need an item, said item stays home. That philosophy changes, however, when one has to pack for an entire year. In effect, one is shedding the vast majority of the material items one owns, and in doing so, to borrow a phrase from Shadow Warrior (the at times strangely thoughtful 2013 release), taking a sort of spiritual laxative.
With that in mind, I’m not sure what to make of our experience of a few days ago; a cat tree I had placed out on the curb for heavy trash day suddenly reappeared in a Bullrito’s parking lot a bit down the road. Having somewhat randomly gone out for frozen yogurt, I spotted the wayward tower out of the corner of my eye. We diverted to the parking lot in question, and there was the cat tree, sitting in the parking lot, looking a bit worse for wear.
An establishing shot of the cat tree in question
The cat tree, looking worse for wear
It’s just a cat tree that used to be mine, that I willfully discarded, in the parking lot of a shitty fast food joint, but I’ve found my mind wandering to this odd coupling over the past few days ; I want to go back, to walk up to the cat tree, to shake it theatrically, to demand of it: cat tree, what did you see?
AAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WHY!!!!!!!!! SO MUCH STUFF!!!!!! STRESSS!!!! I NEED WINE!!!!!!! AGGHHHHHHHHHH! -That is all.
I have been negligent in my updates lately; I had intended to write a post about May Day (which proved to be more interesting than I had thought it would) and about my bike shop odyssey last weekend, but I didn’t. In my defense, my wife, who I hadn’t seen in almost five weeks, flew …
first-world problem: I can’t go to the bike shop that I’ve wanted to visit since I learned we’d be moving to Paris because the corporate security department sent an email stating that a large anti-austerity protest would be held today, and to keep my stupid American ass far away. Said bike shop is, naturally, in …
Note to self: when a French bartender tells you that a beer is strong, he does indeed mean that said beer is strong. While I do favor Belgian Abbey Ales at home, whatever it was that I was served this evening after work packed one hell of an alcoholic punch. On the other hand, ignoring …
Fezzik In Paris 