Jaysis. Yesterday, the Boy got into an incredibly ridiculous argument (and honestly, it's his fault, not mine) which ended with him yelling, "Shut up! Just don't talk to me anymore."
First of all, nobody has the right to tell me to shut up. And I am certainly not having that shit from my man. Second, if you really don't want me to talk to you, I won't.
So we haven't said a word to one another in over 24 hours. I'm taking a plane to head back to the US in just over 12. Somewhere in there, I'm going to sleep. We'll see what happens.
That was how the morning started off. Then it was off to the police headquarters to get my paperwork filed for this year. It went surprisingly smoothly, once I got past the half-hour wait outside the main doors in the cold. Still, it's a shitty way to start the day. An even shittier way to start the day is to get a phone call that makes you very sad while standing in line in front of the security people at the police station.
Somewhat numb, I went to work, where more 16-year-old boys tested out the three sentences they can say perfectly in English:
1. How are you?
2. You are very beautiful.
3. Can I have your number?
I laughed and told them no, but some of them felt compelled to give me theirs. I saw them later in the hallway talking to their teacher, and she asked how class went with me. I said, "They're not going to say anything bad while I'm here, so I'll just run along, now." They laughed, and I went into the teachers' lounge. Their teacher came in a few minutes later, aghast. "Did you really give them your phone number??" she asked. I just laughed. Those boys are so funny. I'm glad I had to work today because it helped me break out of my really fucked up mood.
From there I jumped onto a train to get to class on time. I found out I failed my test last week. It's ok: the test only counts if if helps your grade, not if it hurts it. But still, I would have liked to have aced my first test at the Sorbonne. Sigh. I thought I had done alright. Not well, but alright. I guess I failed, though.
Failure in hand, I met up with the Cowgirl (who is back in town for more trouble) and then quickly ran home to get an important key. Ran back and the two of us lugged suitcases up the stairs. We sat and talked about funny things while eating chocolate and drinking coffee for far too long, and soon it was time to help another assistant lug more stuff up the stairs. Ahhh... the holidays. It's really just all about the lugging.
So now it's midnight. I must pack. And at some point I'll have to say something to my boyfriend. I don't even think he realizes (or remembers) that I am leaving tomorrow. This is one shitty, shitty day (minus the coffee/chocolate time spent with The Cowgirl, of course).
Tomorrow is a flight out at 14.15. I wish I could say I were looking forward to it.
I say, old boy, that's a rather frightful way to say one's farewells...or not to say them as was the case for you. Have a jolly good Yule-tide nevertheless.
Hey babe, you're probably home by now if you're reading this, so gimme a call at home tonight.
xoxo
Kari
have a safe trip home and ace the next one :)
Good luck...