From the veneration of the golden Baby Jesus, the rest of the day went straight downhill.
Picking up the girls at lunch I scraped another parent’s car with my rear view mirrior in the anarchaic maw that is the school parking lot. The fact that it was totally, indisputably my fault made it worse. I was running late and I was hungry and I knew the girls were waiting for me so I just tried to squeeze past her. I must remember in the future that spacial perception has never been one of my strong points. The mother was pissed off, and in typical french style got out of the van yelling at the top of her lungs. But when she saw that I was even more pissed off at myself than she was, she calmed down somewhat.
Franck is a total stress case with work – bookings, accounting (for France and Canada – fun), loan applications for several different banks, and hideous teetering piles of paperwork everywhere the eye can see.
He heard on his favorite radio talk show on Europe 1 yesterday that January 24th is officially the day of the year when people are the most depressed. The expert in question did a very scientific study taking into account several factors such as the weather, the lack of light, the effects of holiday excess, both physical and financial, etc. etc.. I think both Franck and I felt somewhat relieved to hear that – and now I look around me I realize that almost everyone is experiencing varying degrees of winter doldrums.
As one of my friends mentioned to me yesterday as she was slumped over in a chair in the school’s bathroom (we often meet up here, as we wait for our children to do their customary pre-school business in the tiny toilets) “I’m just so tired, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
I reassured her with what the expert on Europe 1 had said, and this seemed to cheer her up a bit too.
However, while I’m waiting not-so-patiently for Spring, I have also decided to do something to better my lot every day rather than retreat into maligned bitterness like I did last year, waiting for the world to rescue me.
This morning I made a chocolate cake with the girls (that delicious french kind with tonnes of butter and chocolate and eggs and only a measly spoon of flour). I just went for a walk, and admired the painted bees and catepillars and crepe flowers they are putting up everywhere for the Saint Vincent. And then I came home and made myself a nice cup of sugary, milky tea which I’m sipping right now.