Clarabella Speaks.

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves" - Shakespeare

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Diary of a Parisian Office Worker: Loca

Relatively busy weekend, not really doing much but at the same time having an actual life (as untrue as this will seem as you read on) so hence I'm only posting friday's update now. Went a bit crazy with the camera angles (camera-face method is proving quite difficult at times so might have to research new options)  so you might need to cock your head a little, but the majority of us have the head tilt pose down to a tee so this shouldn't pose any problems.


Turns out I didn't actually make it shopping this weekend so unfort no new bling to unveil this week. In fact I only ventured outside of the flat to go out el viernes and to go running, and so now as I write, I am sat soaking my feet in a lettuce-spinner (I had nothing bigger) full of hot soapy water because the poor soles (ha) are all blistered. 2 x 4.5 mile runs in 2 days without coming close to dying is reassuring me that I have not yet lost my fitness but I think my feet would prefer it if I had.

Made a new friend yesterday, a greek electrician who lives opposite and came to fix my sockets. I greeted him at the door at 10 am in my pyjamas and looking scary as hell after 4 hours sleep, yet when he was finished he returned with a branch (literally) covered in pink flowers in a little vase of water "it's company for you because you're on your own". Fml if ever there was a social rock bottom I think this may be it. It was however sort of sweet, and even though he had previously told me I ate too much for breakfast (fruit and wheaten bread is definitely not too much) I smiled and said thanks. He also left me a cube of restaurant sugar because when I presented him with his milk-but-no-sugar tea he took one sip, winced mid-swallow and set it back on the table. Talk about hurting my feelings.

Weekends are too short and 8 am on Monday morning comes around quicker than it should so je vais love and leave you all and continue to soak my feet whilst watching 101 Dalmations. It would be a lie to say it beats the Marc Jacobs bag, but it's definitely up there on the birthday present list. Possibly the world's worst 21 year old.

Bisous.

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