Hello friends !
Hoping you had a wonderful happy and merry season.
And that getting back to things isn't too tough.
If you were followers of my blog last year, senscerely yours, you already know that at times I have an uncanny knack for talking to the wrong phone guy, searching everywhere except the most obvious place, and battling with French Photomaton machines.
Well, dear readers, I'd like to add a new character building experience to the list. Even though this one has less to do with French bureaucracy, and more to do with the sheer bad vibes of the first Monday back to work après vacances.
It all started the Thursday before vacation. My suitcases were packed, my classes were planned, I was pumped for the holidays. Should have known then, letting my guard down was dangerous. I was enjoying my afternoon bike ride back to work when a run in with the sidewalk edge seriously cramped my style. You see, there's this little part of my ride where I have to cross two crosswalks, connected in the middle by a concrete barrier-ish thing and a lampost. To avoid the lampost, you have to weave in a sort of S, from bottom to top. Imagine your little bike writing out an 'S' on the sidewalk. The S passed uneventfully, but then got squished at the end, quite inconveniently. My back tire rammed into one of the edges of the sidewalk, and halfway across the crosswalk my bike stopped rolling completely. The front tire was intact, but the back was wedged against the wheel cover, preventing any movement whatsoever.
It left me only one option- rolling my bike the rest of the way to school. Except since the back tire would no longer BUDGE, I had to steer the front wheel and pick up the back wheel by the bike seat. And continue in that way for the next quarter mile. Did I mention I was in the middle of a blizzard? Well that's because I wasn't. But just IMAGINE how bad that would have been : )
It was soon extremely clear that I would have to leave my bike at the middle school during the holidays. There was no way I would have the time to WALK my bike all the way back to my apartment, retrieve my suitcase, and then walk ALL the way back to the train station. Thankfully, I found an angel of an art teacher that gave me a ride to my apartment and then to the station. Seriously wouldn't have made it without her.
So this morning I walked to class, and was immensely relieved to find my bike sitting in the same place as I left it that lonely Friday afternoon. Slightly frostbitten, but untouched. I got to school early, knowing that I would have to brave the walk to the bike store to see if I can get it repaired. So I somewhat gracefully (read: probably not in the least bit) did that awkward bike drag about a mile and a half to the bike store. Every so often I would have to pause and let my fingers gain back some feeling (thanks to both grandmas for contributing to the project, by the way. The leopard print gloves from Grandma Lou and earmuffs from Grandma Happ were a HUGE help) or switch my steering and dragging arm. All the while adjusting the pedals so they wouldn't ram into my shins. A mile and a half.
And it really wouldn't be a French ending to the story unless I throw in that last detail that yes, the bike store was closed when I got there. Wouldn't you FREAKING know it. Expect it. You probably knew even before I started that first paragraph. It was such a wonderful addition to my Monday morning, I could have cried tears of joy. Except they certainly wouldn't have been joyous. So I locked up my bike, said the second prayer that it would be there when I returned, and hustled back to work.
So that was my first lundi back from vacation. How is yours going so far ?