Terrible Tuesday

Ok, so it wasn't all that terrible, but it certainly wasn't "Perfect Monday" either. Actually, it started off great. It was cold this morning, and I got to wear my favorite white pea coat for the first time this year. For those of you who don't know me well, I am a freak for coats and considering I usually live in Texas, it's kind of a weird thing to love/horde. So, now that I am in Paris, I jump at the chance to wear all my coats. This morning was the perfect occasion. However, this afternoon, Paris had warmed up and so I decided to leave my coat in my locker as I already had a ridiculous amount of things to take home and wanted to make it to 5 pm yoga. This is where the day takes a turn.

I rush out the door of school, power-walking as fast as I can because I refuse to take the metro to yoga class. Plus, I NEED the exercise; culinary school is not exactly figure friendly. Keep in mind that I am also carrying 2 quiches and 2 tarts that I made this morning (hey, a girl's gotta eat and when it comes to Quiche Lorraine and Onion Tart, I say the more the merrier) as well as my backpack with books, dirty chef's clothes and a change of clothes for yoga. It's all a bit heavy and cumbersome, to say the least.

I have to pass by my apartment on my way to yoga. When I get close it, I realize I have made record time and will have enough time to drop off the tarts/quiches. Bringing in two huge boxes of food to the yoga studio is not exactly good yoga etiquette. So I am pumped that I won't have to do that. And this is when the bombshell hits me.

MY KEYS ARE IN MY (insert your favorite expletive here) FAVORITE WHITE PEA COAT I WAS SO PROUD OF THIS MORNING WHICH HAPPENS TO NOW BE IN MY LOCKER AND QUICKLY IS NO LONGER MY FAVORITE THING.

It's too late to go back to school. The lockers will be closed. So, I rush home, clinging to my tarts/quiches so when I inevitably run into the slow moving tourist who stops every 5 feet, my dinner for the week won't smash into the ground and make this day even worse. I hope and hope that my landlady Mme. B will be home. Alas, I'm not so lucky. I quickly scrawl a note detailing my problem and ask if she can let me into the apt tonight with her key. I leave it on her door praying it's not some weird French holiday that means she won't be home until late. I would really like to sleep in my apt tonight. Since she is not home, the only thing I can do now is go to yoga, albeit without first changing clothes and with 2 tons of food.

Let me just clue you in on the type of yoga this is: Bikram Yoga. The room is over 100 degrees fahrenheit and they basically yell at you for 90 minutes. You sweat like a pig and look/smell like a wet dog when you leave. I also happened to bring spandex to wear to yoga tonight, which is not exactly what you want to wear anywhere in public much less along the fashionable streets of Paris. However, I had no choice. When class was over, I needed to rush back to the apt to see if Mme B would be there to open the door for me. Otherwise, it was looking like the Jardin de Luxembourg was going to be home for the night.


Jardin de Luxembourg

In the hopes of catching Mme B at home, I half run/half walk down the streets of Paris, in a drenched spandex outfit, smelling and looking like a wet dog, with a sweat-soaked towel under one arm, two boxes of food under the other, a huge backpack, a look of panic on my face and nothing else but a prayer. Now, I've seen some weird things in Paris that French people just walk past without even noticing. Well, not this time. I noted many Parisians and tourists alike glancing my way with a frightened look on their faces.


Random people doing bikram yoga. Just so you can get the visual.

Needless to say (since I am blogging) Mme B was home, and I am now safe and sound (and clean!) in the comfort of the tiny box I call an apartment. Hey, at least I'm not on a park bench!