Uninteresting

So I’d love to dish out a lengthy abroad update brimming with newfound sophistication, budget-savvy travel recommendations, provocative cultural comparisons, aix-istential musings, and whatnot. It pains me not at all to say that, considering I do absolutely less than nothing with my life on a day-to-day basis, an update of sorts is, as precedent would undoubtedly convey, laughable.

This week I had to make up a “midterm” that I had the misfortune of missing during my turbulent period of poor health. My “professor” asked that I show up at “school” at 11 in the morning to sit the exam. In order to make myself presentable by the crack of dawn as was cruelly demanded of me, I had to prepare myself by going to sleep very early the night before.

Going to sleep very early the night before in this context means that I didn’t open a tab and made it home before stores opened for regular business hours.

Slight sidetrack. Anyways, when walking to school the next day, poised and bright eyed comme toujours, something felt a little off about the light of day itself.  The reason for my feeling ill at ease, perturbed, if you will, strutting my way to “campus”, was due to the positioning of the sun. The world looks different in the middle of the morning and I had completely forgotten. Desolee. But hardly.

As an aside, I want to emphasize how absolutely difficile and a nightmare and a half it is to walk on cobblestone in heels. In Frog, heels are called talons, and to be honest they are literally the talons of Satan on a rough night out. One has not seen a stumble until witnessing a Tuesday night “stroll” on cobblestone. A little jaunt, if you will. SO QUAINT AND EURO.

However, I still insist upon wearing those bad boys every single fois I sort.

As an aside to the side that I have just made I should also mention that daytime marche-ing on cobblestone is also difficult. Particularly when I have my headphones in and am attempting to step/swag in time to the music, typically rap (or country, depending on how sorry I feel for myself at the time/if I'm wearing loose-fitted clothing which is for the most part, a rare occasion). ANYWAYS the walk ends up looking like kind of an uphill struggle waddle, SO enticing. And since I am in fine physical form there is usually a kind of panting associated with the walk, even more appetisante. 

Alas, it is, in fact, a Saturday night and due to the tiresome nature of the past week, what with the rigorous pursuit of academic excellence, intense endurance training/exploration of local mountains, resume padding, future planning, and the like, I am terribly exhausted. So now it’s just me, Greg House, and, by consequence, a lingering and currently heightened paranoia of contracting a foreign illness that does not adequately respond to Western medicine. All in all, today has been quite the casual affair. Currently contemplating a way to sneak around in the dark, unnoticed, and make my way to the kitchen, acquire the Nutella, and hold her captive till tomorrow. How very Entrapment of me.

It is currently only 11:45 pm. Or, as they say in France, 23h45.  Apparement, this is not only the land of flavorful biscuits but also the land of pretending to be in the military, all the time. Literally. For some godforsaken reason military time is not only used but also spoken out loud. I have yet, in my soon to be 21 years, (4 months from tomorrow, time doesn’t fly when you’re underage) to encounter a more useless lifestyle choice. Why yes, I would love to have my eyebrows waxed at 17:45. Let me just whip out my calculator and figure out what in god’s name you mean. Merci, bye.

TFlorenceM- ing this weekend with Lizzie Langs. Alex Dennett too.

In preparation for our reunion/the cult of Lilly koozies (minus MP/RP), I’ll close with a little proverb of the ages.

If you're not FaF, I DGaF. 

See, despite some evidence to the contrary, I haven't forgotten what's up.

Oh sorry is that rude,

Margarita