Saturday, January 23, 2010

Winter


I really do feel bad when I can't post something here every couple of days, but the conundrum I've been facing for the past week is...what?

I doubt that any of the fine readers who come here want to read about the dull but paying work I've been doing every day. Or that those who don't live in Montpellier want to read about the library again, although we do have over 600 signatures as of this moment (and you can sign it here). Or that I went to the market this morning and, as usual for this time of year, didn't find much, although there was a very colorful display of all kinds of root vegetables at one of the organic stands that was tempting. Or that I'm in my 9th month of not being able to taste anything much after 6pm or so, although the drugs the doctor's given me seem to be working a bit, so it didn't make much sense to buy a bunch and roast them to see what they taste like. Or, even grimmer, that my washing machine's broken and the consensus seems to be that I should just buy a new one because getting the old one repaired would cost just as much. Or that I can't afford to do that because I just bought a year's health insurance (but at least I have it now!). Or about my bank card being downgraded and my not finding out about it until my direct-debit bills to the electric and phone companies started bouncing. Or the discovery, through that, that France Telecom Orange has been pulling twenty Euros out of my bank account every month for...what, exactly, when my service is with Free?

Or that the days are short and I tend to sleep too much. Or that the sun still does shine some days, but it gives no warmth to speak of. Or that, on my way to the market this morning, I looked over towards Pic St.-Loup and there was a wall of light grey, which I suspect may be heading over this way for the next couple of days.

Who would want to read that, and why would I want to write it? What would be the point? At least for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, it's the same story: it's winter, and it will pass. It did last year, when I was new here, and signs of it started appearing about 30 days from now. Assuming the dirty laundry doesn't drive me out, I'll be here for that. And as I remember, it was very much worth the wait.

9 comments:

  1. Hit me with the minutiae, I can take it.
    Makes a change from re-reading Barbara Pym.

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  2. Who would want to read about your daily (paying) work, the library (what's happening?), the root veg in the market (go ahead, roast a bunch), even your broken washing machine, your health insurance (a good thing), or your bank card (what gives?)? Me. You're a good writer. I enjoy your posts. The point is that it IS winter. All of us slow down. Sleep too much. And look forward to the soft green of a mid-April field.

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  3. Me too (ref anonymous's comment). I think you write very well and I too enjoy your posts.

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  4. Okay, it's official: irony is dead.

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  5. American irony is not always accessible to French-speaking readers :-))

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  6. I've been having a similar problem on my blog.

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  7. Here, irony has been replaced by envy. When I walk out my door and maintain an easy pace for about 10 minutes, I can reach the Bavarian village in which I currently live. All the functional stores are represented, but there is no library, no theatre, no gallery. This is not to say that interesting things and places can't be found, but it is to say that I am not in Montpellier. Winter in a village in Bavaria is several steps deeper into the cold, relentless oppression called winter. I, too, find that I am epoxied to my computer and get up only to stare out the window at the monochromatic view outside my window. I am so completely primed for spring!

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