I dropped the cap to my makeup in the family’s bidet this morning. Ughhhhh. I scrubbed the cap frantically hoping to erase the scarring memory but it was to no avail. Forgive me but I’m just not comfortable with the existence an apparatus that sole purpose is to clean a person’s butt. It’s weird, ok. I know I’m being culturally insensitive but is showering THAT inconvenient for the French?? Each time I wash my hands in the sink that is dangerously close to the bidet, I see it out of the corner of my eye and I wonder, “Does this family really use this thing?” Some things are best left unknown.
When I returned from buying junk food, in preparation for eating my feelings, I saw a disfigured shadow repeating strange whimpers and hobbling through the house. Surprisingly, I was unfazed. You see, at chez Pottiers this is a common occurrence. An 87-year-old woman lives on the fourth floor above me. Ironically, she can barely walk and there’s no elevator. Since this is Paris, of course she has a hunchback—Quasimodo style. The effects to her spine as a result of the hunchback have completely deformed her neck. It looks as though her head became too heavy for her neck and one day it just slouched over and hasn’t moved since. She walks with a heavy limp and at a turtle’s pace. I passed her on the streets the other day, and by passed I mean I completely ignored her like it was high school and I was the betchy girl and she was the kid with the weird smell but redeeming personality. When I first saw the old bitty, I was PISSED! I don’t know to make small talk with someone who can’t turn her neck. Like, what do you say to that?? Luckily she is at an age where each day she gets shorter and shorter; so with the combination of her immobile neck and shrinking height, I was able to walk right past her without her even realizing it. Amazing, I know! I can’t believe I was so lucky. What a great way to avoid awkward situations—for me, not for her...
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