When the going gets tough, the tough get going. That's a fact you know.
Last week when the going was really tough (due to the life hiccup we experienced) The Husband and I decided that we needed to get going... right out of town. We wanted to relax, just the two of us, no Gatz. That was my number one requirement. (Not that I don't love The Husband's brother from another mother, but heaven knows, sometimes a girl needs a break, and by girl, I mean me.)
We decided on Sète because The Husband used to work next to Sète and loves it and I've never been. Plus he has been telling me all about some 'meat restaurant' that's there for ages (apparently all The Husband needs is the beach and a big slab of meat). I found a hotel with a rooftop pool that overlooks the Mediterranean. Heaven. And then The Husband exclaimed, "I'm going to lie by that pool all day" and I said, "me too" and then I thought to myself, "Wait a second, why are we going to drive three hours, just to lie by a pool, surely we could have a relaxing time, just the two of us, lying by a pool closer?"
And that my friends, is how we decided to go to Avignon instead.
After dropping Fifty off at camp, we arrived in Avignon at 11a.m. and in an attempt to distract me from Zara, The Husband took me to a wine bar for a glass of Rosé (vin blanc for him) and the sweetest little man came over and asked if he had heard correctly; were we indeed speaking English. We told him that yes, we were indeed speaking English. He was surprised because the wine bar is tucked away in a small side street and not many tourists find it. I explained that I wasn't a tourist, I lived there, well not too far from there anyway and then we transitioned back into French and he told us all about how he was from India but had lived in France since he was eighteen (so I'm guessing for at least fifty years) but now he has prostate cancer and he inquired how old The Husband was, and then told him that as soon as he turns forty, he is to go straight to the hospital for a full body scan to make sure that he is completely healthy.
The point of all of this information about the conversation is this.... I understood everything that this little old man said perfectly. His accent was crystal clear to my non-French ears. So obviously, Indians in France are my people and I need to find an Indian expat group to hang with immediately.
A short while later we were exiting the walls of Avignon and checking into the hotel, and by 2p.m., I was lying poolside with a stack of magazines. It was perfect, it was exactly what we needed.
Later that night, when I was getting ready for dinner and thinking that I had reached the pinnacle point of relaxation (thanks in part to a ridiculously long bubble bath which for me, who hasn't had a bathtub for almost three years, is the bees knees) and feeling almost delirious with happiness, I made the terrible mistake of saying it. I actually said; "I don't think I could possibly be any happier at this moment, today has been perfect."
And that's when the universe decided that this all was poppycock, no one has the right to be that happy. So my hair got sucked up by the hairdryer motor and I had to cut a big ol' chunk of it off.