It's Me, Sara Louise

This is the story of what happens when I wake up in the morning and discover that my Wifi is on the fritz. Upon realizing that I am cut off from the world I automatically say, “f*ck” in a breathy, exasperated whisper, while rubbing my barely awake face. I then discover that the Wifi has decided not to work on the same morning that I have run out of coffee. 6am, no internet, no coffee. Not a fun way to start the day. Obviously this is some sort of conspiracy and for the moment, I’m blaming Fifty. He’s been ignoring me this morning anyway.

I make a cup of tea in place of my coffee and while sipping it, I mourn the loss of my tea making skills that I have obviously left in Dublin. And since the tea is not cutting it, I decide that I will have to go to the bar with my Starbucks to-go tumbler and have The Parisian pour two cafés au lait into it. He always looks at me like I’m an alien life form when I do this but I don’t care, for a brief moment I can pretend that I’m in a Starbucks (it’s a rather active imagination I have).

I turn on the television and the only thing on that looks even remotely interesting is a show called Enquêtes au Coeur d’une Prison de Femmes (investigations inside the heart of a womens prison). And then I ponder why morning television here is a little strange. Where in the world is Matt Lauer?

I reset the Wifi box every few minutes with my fingers crossed praying that it starts working before my French lesson this afternoon. (My lessons are via Skype, how Jetson-like is that?). And then I resign myself to the fact that I may end up cut off from the world for the day, and contemplate how much I can actually accomplish without the interference of the wonderful pesky internet to distract me.

But then I think; if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Like if a little American sits internetless in the middle of B.F.E. France, will anyone know that she’s here? Anyone?