Wednesday 9/27-Friday 9/29: We had our first Critical Theory seminar on Wednesday morning. Laura and I underestimated how much time it would take to get there on the Metro because we had to transfer twice. We also went in the wrong direction when we got out of the Metro. So we ended up being about 15 minutes late. There were twelve of us crowded into Sam’s study/exercise room. We went around the room and talked about our dissertation projects. And Sam talked a lot about Paris and space, and Parisians having a sixth sense about space and never bumping into each other. I don’t know where he’s been walking, but I want to walk around in that place. My impression is that Parisians just don’t give a shit where they’re going, or at what speed, or who they inconvenience on the way. But maybe that’s particular to the 14th, which is where I do most of my walking.

We had a very nice lunch at a restaurant across the street from Sam’s house. For my entrée (appetizer), I chose the “Terrine St. Jacques,” thinking it would be some kind of paté. It was actually the fish jell-o thing that I used to hate when they served it to us in Angers. But this one was very good. And then I had lamb with mashed potatoes for my “plat principal,” followed by flan with pears for dessert.

For the next three days, I did laundry. Someone had suggested to me before I left Chicago that I could save time by packing dirty clothes. And I was resistant to that idea, but I ended up doing it in the end, because I knew we would have laundry facilities in the apartment in Paris. Now, mind you, I only did two loads of laundry, but it took three days to do them. Well, the wash cycle only took about two hours for each load. But the dryer doesn’t dry the clothes at all. I ran the load with the jeans through the dryer three times, and everything was still soaked. So I ended up hanging things all over the house. There is a drying rack over the bathtub, and I also found a baby gate that worked well as a second drying rack.

On Friday, I decided it was time to try to get my carte de séjour, the residency permit I need to stay in France for the year. I had to make copies and stop by the post office before I could go to the Commissariat de Police to wait in line. The copies took forever because the copier didn’t like my American paper. (French paper is a little bit longer and possibly wider than 8.5” x 11”). It ended up printing them on legal size paper, and the guy who owned the copy shop/internet café totally made fun of me. Then I went to the post office, where the asshole post office dude pretended he didn’t understand me when I said I wanted one pre-stamped envelope and a book of stamps. He annoyed me. Then I got lost trying to find the Commissariat. By the time I got there it was 4:00, and the carte de séjour office was closed for the day. So I was to go back Monday morning.

In the afternoon, Laura asked me if I would want to go to the movies that night. She thought it would be fun to see Le Diable s’habille en Prada. And it was playing in English with subtitles at the theatre near our apartment. I enjoyed Meryl Streep, though sometimes her vocal tonality was uncomfortably TCD-esque, and I really didn’t want to go there with that comparison. Laura pointed out that the story continues the unproductive social narratives of “successful women are unhappy” and “following your boyfriend will make you happy.” I had trouble sleeping that night. I think I ate too much candy at the theatre.