Shut up, Blogger. Who asked you?
Yeah, I know. I've let this blog go lately. I thought about it from time to time, but there's been a lot of stuff going on. Namely, quitting my job in Paris, going through a major health scare, moving to Sweden, taking a trip to Gothenburg, and starting my new job in Stockholm.
See? These are big things. Major life things.
This is my attempt to catch you up, and also to get myself back into the habit of blogging. Here goes.
Here I am on my last day of work in Paris, hauling in some croissants for the team to enjoy. Although these baked treats were to celebrate my last day, this gesture was utterly selfless (toot!) as I could not enjoy even a bite due to my gluten-free leanings. So I spent what turned out to be my last 12 euros on food I couldn't even eat (having to scrap together 4.50 euros in change for an awful tourist crepe for lunch) because my company decided to withhold my last paycheck until the 2nd of the next month and not pay me on the last day of the month, as usual.
What a nice kick in the ass on my way out the door!
(I must mention that my bank called me that same day to inform me I was overdrawn as my paycheck had not arrived. Ugh. The embarrassing and unfortunate call from the bank to let you know you're overdrawn.) So whatever, I couldn't spend any money for a couple of days, but let's just say that this annoyance perfectly summed up what it was like working at that utterly awful and unprofessional company. Thanks for not letting me get sentimental, suckers!
Byro came to town to help with the move and spend some time in Paris. I didn't want to have to admit to people that I'd lived in Paris and never been to the Pompidou, so we went to the Pompidou. Also, we wanted to go to the Pompidou.
It's definitely looking a little worn down in the bathrooms and the hallways, but it's still a spectacular building (all those pipes!). But what is it about Paris putting people in hamster-like habitrails? Does it got a escalator? Yup. Well, let's put it in a glass chute! You know, make 'em ride in the chute! Works at the airport!
But anyway, the views are spectacular. We sat at Georges on the roof and had some ice cream while enjoying this view:
Here I am at the top o' the Pomp, showing off my new feather necklace from my favorite jewelry store in Paris, which recently reopened in a new space.
This guy likes that one. And so did I.
A view outside from one of the exhibition rooms. But shoot, with Richter's realistic style, this coulda been one-a his!
Love the breakdown of the realism on these two.
It really sets a mood, hmm?
What I have to look forward to this winter.
B and I had a swell last dinner at Aux Deux Amis with Magali. And our favorite sassy/surly waiter even took a photo with us and comped us some vieille prune. Awww.
Here's my Paris apartment all boxed up:
And emptied out. I wanted to cry when I saw it like this. There was so much to do and I was so sleep-deprived in doing it that I hardly had a moment to feel sad about leaving Paris. Until I was left to wait in my beautiful and empty apartment for the guy to come and do the exit walk-through.
This made me sad:
When we popped up in Stockholm, we had a few days in the empty apartment there. (And found that the air mattress had decomposed while we were in Paris, so we slept on the floor until our things arrived a few days later.) I swear, the movers were laughing at us in Swedish as they kept bringing more things in and asking WHERE they should put them, as we all could see there was nowhere to go with our stuff. So the shit was piled up, and we left promptly for Gothenburg the next morning to check out the Way Out West festival. Un-magically, everything was as we left it (piled and messy) when we returned a few days later. Thanks for nothing, Cochino. I have been working my toots off all weekend to clean and put everything away, and it's finally livable here. I wish I would have taken before photos because you would not believe all I managed to do this weekend! I have the aching back and sore muscles to prove it. But damn it's good to sit on my couch with nary a box in sight as I write this!
Speaking of our move, Cochino was a real trooper. She was a complete professional on the flight (which we all know she hates), and she stayed out of our way on moving day in Stockholm. At one point, I walked into the living room and saw she had been restrained by the curtains, however. There she sat, defeated on the couch. When I asked B about his new cat-tethering technique, he said he had nothing to do with it. So either the movers got tricky with the leashed beast, or this was just a happenstance hold.
Oh, Cochino:
Welcome to Sweden!
