Yesterday you probably were thinking, "Yes. This is all very tragic about your car, but did you humiliate yourself at the French thing? I need to know." To be honest, I can't tell whether your fervor in this regard is born of sympathy or mockery, but I am willing to extend to you the benefit of the doubt. This time.
This past weekend was one primarily characterized by inertia. Normally, this is an affliction I suffer from on Sundays, but this time around I had what felt like two Sundays. This, if you are me, is not good. There was: "I need to wash my hair, so I might as well go swim and then I will go to the grocery store, which is not far from the gym and then all will be well." Followed by this: "But I don't want to go swimming. Plus, if I don't leave the house, it won't matter if I don't wash my hair and I think I still have two eggs in the refrigerator, so I don't need groceries THAT badly." And this went on and on and on. (It is often quite tiresome to be me. I mention this in case you are suffering from some sort of bizarre, misplaced envy.) This endless loop then extended to the French thing. Am I really going to go to the French thing? I don't really want to go to the French thing. Is this a dumb dress to wear to the French thing? Et cetera.
Ultimately, I brushed my still dirty hair, put on the possibly dumb dress and left the house. Triumph! However, since I had failed to go to the grocery store, I was, in fact, ravenous. So, while ostensibly on my way to the French thing, I turned the wrong direction, spent about twenty minutes looking for parking in the Mission and took myself out to dinner at Range. It was delicious.
Fortified by pork and conversations with other human beings (in English), I did then go to the soirée, where I said three French things, screwed up one verb, watched some Haitians drum and dance, watched some West Africans drum and dance, and left. I believe I was there for 37 minutes of a four-hour program. However, I did spend at least five hours tortured by event-related indecision, so I think it all evens out.
For the record:
1. My dress seemed ok.
2. French men wear a lot more cologne than American men.
3. It's especially difficult to hear questions posed to you in a foreign language in a room where there is a lot of drumming going on.
4. I really love Range, though it's possible that my favorite bartender no longer works there, which is disappointing for me, though hopefully good for him.
5. I washed the bird shit off my car.
6. I finally washed my hair.
7. I still haven't been to the gym. Shut up.