Slouching Towards Recovery

I will say one thing for French cold viruses -- they are persistent. I had hoped that today would be back-to-school day, but my chest and ribs did not share this view. So it was another morning of fitful dozing, where time slowed to molasses, then accelerated in odd bursts, as if I were living in a bad Dali painting. (I know -- that's a tautology right there. I loathe f###ing Dali. Even more than that other nutjob Gaudi).

 

The plain people of Ireland: "Hold on, now! That's a bit strong. Sure they were geniuses, the both of them. Way ahead of their time.

 

Whipping Cats Management (wrestling for control): WTF? Get out of here! Ye are not allowed to be in the main body of a post ...

 

Anyway, as I was about to say, I am continuing on the road to recovery, and hope to get back to class tomorrow. This evening I had been scheduled to meet Ellen and Leslie for dinner at this well-known fish restaurant:

 

http://www.restaurant-poisson.fr/

 

Indeed, I had already picked out what I was going to have (tomato pie with pesto, and roasted sea bass, if you must know). But, in the end, I had to bale out (bail out?), because my immune system did not feel ready for another trip in the metro just yet.

 

I did manage to make it to the Normandy restaurant a few blocks from home,  where the owner knows me and fusses over me and gives me free Calvados. Tonight he did all these things and it made me feel much better about life and my chances of beating this cold.

 

And when I got back from dinner, one of my favorite French TV programs, "Maison à Vendre" was on. There is something delightfully universal about real-estate greed.

Things are looking up.