Feeling better.
I woke up this morning feeling better, in a relative way. I'm still doing a lot of coughing, but my head no longer feels like a bowling ball and I left the house for the first time since Friday.
My only class on Monday was supposed to be an introductory film analysis class. The class turns out to be a continuation from last semester, so it seems doubtful I'll try to take it. I was hoping it would be an opportunity to watch a bunch of French movies, but the first thing we did was watch the first fifteen or so minutes of Edward Scissorhands. Then we watched it again, scene by scene, and discussed it. After was the final scenes of the Bride of Frankenstein, and then some clips from Frankenstein, the 1994 version with Helena Bonham Carter.
I remember that the reason I didn't want to take a history class called The France of Louis XV was because it conflicted with film. I thought I'd go check that out next Monday, but when I went to check out what room that class is in, it turns out that none of the classes for the entire first year of the history degree are posted. I mean, I understand that France isn't big on deadlines, but seriously? Class already started, guys. In case you didn't know, 'cause it sure looks like you didn't.
I tried to ask at the History department office, but the girl who tried to walk into the office in front of me (five minutes until close) had the door firmly shut in her face and was told, at a yell and through the door, that they were closed for the afternoon. So next Monday's class is a mystery, but thankfully classes only happen once a week here. I guess.
Afterward I waded through the bureaucracy required to go to a university sports class of any kind. It involved interrogating the very unhelpful woman at the sports office until she finally told me I had to pay the 15 euro fee at scolarité, where I arrived fifteen minutes before close to two eye-rolling women who refused to even try to run my American visa card, despite their machine having a swipe-y part. I'm really unsure how people who work from ten to noon and then have a two hour lunch break before working from two to four can even presume to have a snippy, I'm-tired-it's-closing-time attitude, but that's ok. She gave me a lot of stamps and I took them back to the original lady, who looked at the clock in a bored way and then made me fill out several forms in duplicate. Oh, France -- when will you learn about computers? Or even carbon paper?
I came home to a miracle, which was that everyone was out of the house at the same time. We're five people lately, since we have a couple of guests from OK who are still looking for a place to live. With our various sleeping schedules and class schedules, this means that there is always at least one person awake and always at least one person asleep. There are usually two people on the couch and a number of computer chords to jump over. So I took the opportunity to clean the apartment with a rapidity and efficiency that would have shocked and delighted my mother.
It made me feel a lot better.
Now I'm listening to Tom's radio show. The Internet is truly a wondrous thing. He's in Wales, and I can listen to the radio show in France.
My only class on Monday was supposed to be an introductory film analysis class. The class turns out to be a continuation from last semester, so it seems doubtful I'll try to take it. I was hoping it would be an opportunity to watch a bunch of French movies, but the first thing we did was watch the first fifteen or so minutes of Edward Scissorhands. Then we watched it again, scene by scene, and discussed it. After was the final scenes of the Bride of Frankenstein, and then some clips from Frankenstein, the 1994 version with Helena Bonham Carter.
I remember that the reason I didn't want to take a history class called The France of Louis XV was because it conflicted with film. I thought I'd go check that out next Monday, but when I went to check out what room that class is in, it turns out that none of the classes for the entire first year of the history degree are posted. I mean, I understand that France isn't big on deadlines, but seriously? Class already started, guys. In case you didn't know, 'cause it sure looks like you didn't.
I tried to ask at the History department office, but the girl who tried to walk into the office in front of me (five minutes until close) had the door firmly shut in her face and was told, at a yell and through the door, that they were closed for the afternoon. So next Monday's class is a mystery, but thankfully classes only happen once a week here. I guess.
Afterward I waded through the bureaucracy required to go to a university sports class of any kind. It involved interrogating the very unhelpful woman at the sports office until she finally told me I had to pay the 15 euro fee at scolarité, where I arrived fifteen minutes before close to two eye-rolling women who refused to even try to run my American visa card, despite their machine having a swipe-y part. I'm really unsure how people who work from ten to noon and then have a two hour lunch break before working from two to four can even presume to have a snippy, I'm-tired-it's-closing-time attitude, but that's ok. She gave me a lot of stamps and I took them back to the original lady, who looked at the clock in a bored way and then made me fill out several forms in duplicate. Oh, France -- when will you learn about computers? Or even carbon paper?
I came home to a miracle, which was that everyone was out of the house at the same time. We're five people lately, since we have a couple of guests from OK who are still looking for a place to live. With our various sleeping schedules and class schedules, this means that there is always at least one person awake and always at least one person asleep. There are usually two people on the couch and a number of computer chords to jump over. So I took the opportunity to clean the apartment with a rapidity and efficiency that would have shocked and delighted my mother.
It made me feel a lot better.
Now I'm listening to Tom's radio show. The Internet is truly a wondrous thing. He's in Wales, and I can listen to the radio show in France.
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