I feel like a sickly child.
but Sunday I broke out and took a Velib. And I felt like this
because, you know, no one in Paris leaves the house before 10 a.m. on Sunday morning. (Even if there was a bomb, they stay stubbornly at the table drinking their bowl of coffee.)
So it's safe to Velib like I do - smiling like an idiot (because "only idiots smile" in France*), looking for my destination, ringing my bell at the one man, not yet awake, but standing on the only section of bike path in the whole dang city (WAKE UP!)
And then we have a lunch with B's parents - which lasts 4 hours. And even though I am hacking up a lung his dad insists with the Champagne ("Just a little, to cheers with!").
And then it is time to go home and try to detox** the cream, butter and sugar. (All things I would generally enjoy by the spoonful.) and all I can think is
**Sick diet: green leafy vegetables, clear liquids and a lot of raw garlic. Super fun.