The weekend was cold then warm then wet and cold again.
Saturday I dragged my warm ass out of bed, having slept past 6am for the first time in what felt like aeons, and went appartment hunting.
I raised my "willing-to-pay" limit to 6500FF a month for rent, thinking that this will buy me breathing space, a room other than my bedroom with a couch unto which I will be able to import Montrealers, Torontonians, New-Orleans'ers and random swiss and germans and americans.
One of the places I looked at on Saturday had cockroaches scrabbling across the floor. Silly me thinking that an affordable and free appartment in the 9i�me was a possibility, but I'm not letting go of optimism yet.
The other place was near the Gare de L'Est, and when the lady, after recognizing my name as a hebrew one, said "it's a few minutes walk from the train station" I assumed she meant in a GOOD direction. Alas, the street got seedier and seedier as I headed toward number 93 which was all but hidden behind a trash pile from the sleazy bar next door.
She was asking 6900FF for a two-room place and "furnished" for her meant fridge, hot plate, and a towel rack in the bathroom.
I indulged, afterwards, tried on some shoes with acceptable-looking heels and slightly-less butch-looking toes than I've got now.
We were never meant to be and their cardboard soles hurt the ball of my foot but I tried.
Then I stole off to the Tea and Tattered pages bookshop and had russian-earl-grey tea (which really is magical), and guiltily indulged in american food, a ham salad on something as closely resembling sliced bread as you can find in France.
I found a couple of books, and already finished them. One, a story about aliens falling in love and then being torn apart had me hiding tears in the tea-room, and the other was a Ben Bova collection of short stories about pioneers and dreamers in the space age.
I know I'm a dreamer. That knowledge warms me even as I shiver with the chills that overtook me yesterday morning.
Then again; I ran home from the bookship in the rain, and it was an hour before I could strip off my soaked underwear.
I got off easy with a cold, and the feverish dreams of spending a SUnday in a warm bath and warm bed with tea and a warm book were surprisngly welcome.
In my dreams you were all there, snuggling into me.