Hi kids, remember me?
Here I am, typing away at Papa’s house because the internet won’t be setup at the new chez moi for another week. That’s right, I’m already at my new house in the new Le Petit Village, and while I’m knee deep in unpacking, I thought I’d take a breath and tell you all about my weekend… which technically should have been all about moving, but Mr. London and The Husband had other plans.
We weren’t supposed to have the keys to the new house until Monday (as in day before yesterday, Monday) but on Friday, in a very un-French-like fashion, we got a call to say we could have the keys on Saturday. A whole two days early… can you believe it? I still can’t.
But then Mr. London called The Husband and put the kibosh on that. He phoned and said, “hey, why don’t you come down tomorrow and watch me play in the quarter finals against Racing Metro?” And then The Husband, clearly unaware that we were supposed to move two days later said, “Oh what fun, I’d love to, I really don’t think that there was anything that I needed to do this weekend, and if there was, I’m sure I’d remember. Ooh… can I bring my hetero-life-partner, Gatz, with me? We hate being apart, and if I can’t, I’d just spend the whole time talking on the phone to him anyway.” “Of course you can bring your hetero-life partner, we’ll have a party… WOO-HOO!”
(the above is all paraphrased but it’s how I like to imagine that the conversation went down).
So yeah, I was a little peeved because although I had been very diligent about packing little by little everyday since the beginning of May, it was getting down to the nitty gritty bits and I kind of wanted The Husband’s help with it. But figuring that there was no way I would stay behind and do the nitty bitty bits by myself, and leave my poor cousin, Mrs. London, with The Husband and Gatz (because that would be cruel) I went too.
Off we went to Toulon but on the way, I finagled a stop in Aix to visit my friend Zara where I picked up this bag…
because that’s how I negotiate… impromptu rugby weekend for him = new handbag for me.
We arrived at Chez London to find Mrs. London hiding out in her kitchen while some Monaco rugby players commandeered the living room. She was clearly relieved to see me. Pop went the Rosé bottle… ahhh… the sound of happiness.
A few hours later and we were seated at the match watching one big ol’ nail biter of a game. That was until Mr. London scored a try and we all breathed a sigh of relief and then Toulon won. Of course we just had to celebrate.
N I G H T C L U B
Where we got to watch The Husband and Mr. London dance on podiums. And when Mrs. London and I went outside to get some fresh air, and a flirty guy approached us, we told him that we were married and when he asked where our husbands were, we said downstairs, you know… that big group of rugby players. The look on his face was priceless as he bid us adieu and slowly backed away. Bless.
And just like the last time, somewhere around 3:30, Mrs. London and I noticed that The Husband and Mr. London were missing, and once again, we found them behind the counter in the snack shop across the street stuffing their faces, so we rounded up our troops and headed home.
We got a whole three hours of sleep before heading back to Le Petit Village for a fun filled day of moving.
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