Random Report

The census taker came yesterday, totally ignoring the fact that I had taken the weekend off from French paperwork. He spoke not a lick of English, and while I know that I am to fill out the form and do something with it by Wednesday, I don't know if I am supposed to take it somewhere or if he's coming back to get it.

With a little help from an online translator and a tiny French phrase book, I got it done. Don't ask me if it's right. For all I know, it could look something like this:

Q: When did you move here? A: American.
Q: How long have you lived here? A: English
Q: How many people live here? A: Bachelor of Arts

I think I did a little better than that, but there has to be at least one question that I interpreted in a new and interesting way.

The other, more delicious, highlight of the day was the Nutella Crepe I got in the Place du Tertre. That's the square near Sacre Coeur where the artists, including portrait artists, sell their paintings to loads and loads of tourists. Not caring if looked like a total dork, I took a picture of it--the crepe, that is. I had taken a few bites, but that just shows off the choco-nutty deliciousness of the Nutella inside.

On another random note, we've had clouds, rain, and very high winds here for about 24 hours now. When I came home from my errand-running and crepe-eating yesterday, Potter was hiding under the bathroom sink. I coaxed him out, but he'd take one look at the kitchen window & dart back under. I finally noticed the shade (which is hung OUTSIDE of the window in France) occasionally banging against the window. Didn't seem like a lot of noise to me, and Gracie was totally unphased, but I ended up closing the curtain, and Potter eventually came out.

Last night we had crazy winds, and after spending half of the night in the bathroom (and hours of calling me to come see him), he finally settled on the bed for a few hours of sleep. This morning, the wind picked up again and threw my table to the other side of my balcony. The shutters started banging against the doors, & I finally had to close them. Potter is still freaked out, and the noise of the washing machine running isn't helping. What's a cat to do?

No big plans today. Guess I'll just go visit Potter in the bathroom.

A bientot! (see you soon!)