Bievenue à: the ridiculous life of ME!

During my last overnight shift some nights ago, I spoke with my brother. He asked me how I was going to end my blog because I’m leaving France soon and it will no longer be an adventure story. Who was he kidding? Ever day in my life seems to me an adventure.

Take today, for example:

Woke up to the bitter autumn chill. The colors hanging over the bay were impeccable; pastels that rivaled even the softest Monet. (Ok, I know nothing about art but that sounded good.) Took a shower, fed the dog, did the morning thing… locked the front door and went to climb into the pathetic but endearing Peugeot. “Merde,” I grunted, looking at the driver’s side window, still rolled all the way down, anticipating fresh air and strong breeze. How was I supposed to know it was going to rain last night when yesterday was so beautiful?

I unlocked the front door and Tequila came charging down the stairs (no doubt after already making herself at home on my bed) to say hello. “Sorry pup,” I scratched her head, searching for some towels, “false alarm.” Locked back up, put the towels on the puddle of a seat, climbed in, turned the key and – nothing. Not a noise, not a trickle, naughta.

I tried playing with it for a while, but what do I know about cars? I was probably doing more damage than good. Meanwhile, the thoughts going through my head were something like, “Oh my God, this isn’t even my car. My family’s going to kill me. What could I have done different? Nothing. All the lights are off. Should have shut the window. I’m not going to make it to work. They’re going to be so pissed at me. I need the money, too. And Marie told me that if I arrived early enough maybe I could get a free tee-shirt!” (That’s another thing about me: I LOVE free tee shirts. All the time I worked at P’tit Club I didn’t get paid but I did leave with a free shirt and that made me happy. I don’t know why, but I get really excited about them. Especially when they’re unique, for employees only. Makes me feel important. And the shirt Marie promised me said “STAFF” on it – what could be better than that?)

I unlocked the door and my clumsy golden retriever slipped and slid and franticly bellowed down the stairs to greet me. You can always count on her for a smile. I called the Sube and explained that the car was broken and I sold the scooter… so I didn’t know if or when I’d be at work.

Then what? I felt terrible calling a friend to drag my pathetic ass from the peak of this mountain all the way to St. Tropez. And I had no idea how to fix a car. I hope it was just the battery and could be jumped but 1.) There wasn’t another car to jump it with and 2.) How do you explain that in French? I thought about calling Aunt Sarah for guidance – it’s only 11:30pm in LA. But she has a four-year-old and other things to worry about. Do I dare call crying to the parents? As much comfort as that would bring me, it wasn’t going to do much to improve my situation. So I called the only other two people I know I can count on day in and day out, who tolerate me only as family could.

I called Z & Alberte.

Alberte answered and tried desperately to find someone to help me out. Long story long, Z showed up some time later all smiles. We talked about the problem, moved the car down the hill, played with it a bit. Maybe it’s the battery, but probably something far more serious. “In the meantime,” he said, “I’ll take you to work.”

Gotta love the Combas.


For My Family: I am back at le Chêne en Croix safe & sound, after going to L'Esquinade for lunch to make myself feel better. Fix-anything Man Z – with help from Gabby – fixed the car and it seems to be running fine. Turns out it was just the battery and it’s been replaced by a new one. I don’t know if it could have been jumped but I had no idea how to explain that, nor was I here when they were. Good thing this happened just before it sits all winter, huh? (Not…)