A Lost Weekend
I’m a deadline for a project and am panicking about it.
So…being a world-class procrastinator—what did I do this weekend?
A. I scrubbed the hose of my showerhead.
B. I contemplated the safety of a wild boar sausage some Roman friends brought me. There were some mysterious things in there that I couldn’t cut through as well, but I’ll spare you that footage. So far I’ve eaten one-third of it and nothing’s happened to me.
C. I realized that I really like to make soup.
But later remembered that I really don’t like eating it.
D. I decided that instead of going to a conference in April that I should spent that time surfing and eating sushi in Hawaii.
When my career plunges into oblivion, you can blame these cookies.
F. I cut my hair on the roof. After too many mauvaises expériences getting my haircut in Paris, I realize that it’s impossible to get a decent men’s haircut around here. (Why is that?) I suppose I could pay 110€ and try my luck at one of those fancy places. But this way, I know I’m spreading my DNA around town which ensures my place in l’histoire de Paris…since I surely won’t ever be able to get into Père Lachaise.
So if you were eating out on some lovely café terrace this weekend, enjoying the sun, and a hair-ball floated into your croque Monsieur or salade d’Auvergne…um…sorry.
G. I ate a couple of prune-stuffed prunes and photographed them for like three hours in all sorts of angles and light. Then tried to decide if I could write a story for the blog about it. Then re-decided that maybe I’d written enough about prunes before and that no one would be interested and that even though they looked pretty cool cut neatly in half, they also looked vaguely testicular and that I should just forget about it and get back to work.
Which I’m going to do right now.