Day 11
Friday 4/21
Got up with Beck to see him off to work, then got back into bed to read. I've picked up a book I last put down in like February called Anathem, by Neal Stephenson. I got immediately sucked back into it. When I was done with that for the moment, I did a few houseeworky things - tested out and used the vacuum, ran some laundry through (think I've got the hang of it now), and picked up some groceries. It was a lovely warm day out, and the French were absorbing all the sunshine they could get. Itt commonly turns sunny in the afternoon here, even if the morning was gray. I also read about a few places to check out on Eater, a food enthusiast website that I do not usually frequent but was curious about.
When Beck got home, he brought shoe polish. We both have weird picky feet, and his demand particular shoes that were designed for the French Foreign Legion. The pair he has were starting to look a little worn, so polish seemed like the logical protective step. It was fun watching him work. I even got to play foot dummy for a little while, with my foot in the shoe while he worked on it. The polish took nicely, a little darker than the original leather dye, but ending up a pretty chestnut color. (sidebar: I have seen but not yet purchased roasted chestnuts. I fucking love roasted chestnuts. But I never see them when I want them.)
Right around here is where my shame begins. We went out to find dinner. Beck suggested a ramen place he had seen not far from home, but the formulation of ingredients wasn't quite right for me. Then we wandered some, happening to be on a street that was more stores than cafes. (Usually when I am looking for a store, all I can find is cafes.) I had also waited too long to eat, and my decision-making powers dissipated as a result. We found a cafe with something we would both eat. The very nice waiter came. I ordered wine for me, and Beck asked for the coktail du jour - turned out to be a margarita (which I just could not understand out of the waiter's mouth). A few minutes after the drinks showed up, Beck asked when I thought we might be able to order food. And then I realized my mistake - I was on autopilot, and had totally forgotten (if I ever knew) that you order everything at once here. The waited naturally assumed we were just out for a drink, and would not come back to ask us if we wanted food. I wanted to cry. I hadn't realized how much Beck was counting on my ability to navigate this situation. We were both hungry. Worse, someone started smoking weed, or smelling like weed, very close to us, which is an instant serious headache for Beck.
I realize this probably sounds pretty minor, especially if you don't deal with anxiety. If we were home, I/we would probably have been able to manage the situation by moving, or by getting the waiter, or something. But in the moment it was just overwhelming. So we finished our drinks as quickly as possible, luckily caught a waiter without too much trouble, and beat tracks.
Then we went to a crepe stand for food. The man there was nice. Having had a drink on an empty stomach, I accidentally ordered the wrong thing, and subsequently corrected our order. The nice man then made us the first and second things I had asked for, and did not make the thing that Beck had asked for. We now had 1 crepe I would eat, 1 crepe neither of us would eat, and 0 crepes Beck would eat. This was again a case where in the US I would have fixed it easily, but just could not manage it here. I still feel a lot of shame about this as I write it four days later.
He got himself a correct crepe at another crepe stand near our house. This was not my most favorite day so far.