Just call me gugu. Gugu. Gugu gugu gugu.
Gods, what a beautiful name, the boys in Limoges gave it to me.
My boys.
Who've been saying goodbye for the weekend, and momentarily dropping their gruff exteriors and zany acts of comedy to tell me that they'll miss me after next week.
"We should get a photo of her to keep her here with us!"
"Sure, just so you can throw things at it!"
"No, actually, I was serious..."
"oh."
Patrice: "Can't you stay? How do we get her to come back to the Limousin?"
"Who are we going to make fun of now???"
"Well, you've got a new stagiaire coming in next week..."
"Yeah, but they're all afraid of us."
Gods, I think I am going to cry.
"She won't want to come back here anyway, after all we've done to her..."
"Promise you'll only do the water fight thing on warm days, and I'll marry you right now... Errr, professionally, I mean..."
My palms are sore from...
...the round of high fives. Believeitornot, it's a better high than masturbating.
Everything works. Everything.
Aliases and multiple domains and CAs and TLS and SASL and all the servers and services and all the possible client configurations...
Next week we're on to the HARD stuff. Like tech writing. And extra features.
In the meantime, all complaints of all the stares I've been getting are flown from my head, it's probably just cuz I'm a new face in a tiny town. The restaurant I discovered last night, the "Vache au Plafond" was wonderful. From the newspapers they handed me for additional reading, the strangely absinthe-like aperitif or the wonderful on-the-house-you-have-to-try-our-local-wine, to the charming waitress who was worried I hadn't eaten enough until I nearly licked the lemon-tart-in-raspberry-coulis from the plate...
I said goodbye to my favourite hotel receptionist this morning, she's on vacation next week. I was late for my once-every-hour bus and couldn't stay for a proper goodbye...
Something about short-haired ladies. Her, and the bartender at the resto last night, despite the differences in our ages, ladies, of you ever cross my path on an evening where you particularly require nudity and extensive backrubs... Anytime.
Shit. I have to run catch my train. Alain's giving me a lift and Patrice is making me promise to send him the specs for my modem cable so that he can make me a longer one so I can put my laptop on my kitchen table so that I stop hurting my back.
Gugu. gugu gugu gugu.
I have known so much kindness in this small life.