Perfect

The commentary at lunch today:


"Paris just gives you the finger, regularly.  And you can't plan anything, because Paris just gives you the finger on that, too.
And then at some point you when you've finally given up trying to do or organize anything at all in your life without trying 6 times, some bizarre occurance of random events happens and you have a moment. Like right now - the weather is sunny, the restaurant wasn't full, the food is actually really good and you are off work this week and came over to my house and we decided to go to lunch."


"I have also likened Paris to an abusive boyfriend.  You talk to people who have lived here and they talk like battered wives.  They feel that by leaving they have lost, given up.  They got beat down." 
"How can there only be 5 sunny days in the span of 6 months?"
"How can the assistant not do her work and be so bitchy and still have a job?"
"Why don't the banks want my money?  And why do I have to have a meet and greet to PAY them to hold my money AND make interest?"
"And yet on one day, you happen to be out and around in the city and the sun comes out; its blue skies, people are nice. And you happened to have shaved your legs. And you dared to put on a sundress.  And for some reason everyone meets together for a drink in the evening and you look around and it is the most beautifully stunning city in the world. So perfect, you feel like you are in a dream. 

And you can't even remember those gray, angry, miserable days existed. They didn't happen.
And that is why you stay.