We got more snow !! For two days and it stuck on the ground too – very exciting for us since it happens so infrequently. A quiet start to the year, while the temperatures slowly fell. There were 3 weeks when the lows ranged from low-to-high 20°s and I personally was reacquainted with the reasons I’m not a fan of freezing weather. I don’t think my hands ever reached room temperature this month.
G’s flu, which he came down with on December 26th, turned into a nasty cold. We read reports that many people were getting hit with a variety of virus’s, simultaneously. We both tested for Covid (G twice) but tests showed negative. Fortunately, as bad as he felt, it was not Covid. While I plied G with chicken soup, copious amounts of water, tissues and cough drops, I began the process of dismantling the holiday decorations. I explained to him, for the umpteenth time, that the cookies which hung on the tree were not fit to eat after 30 dusty days. He wasn’t as concerned about the popcorn strands; besides, it’s easy enough to make more of that.
Our washer, which was acting a bit wonky, straightened out to our relief. G’s beloved RoboRock sweeper/mop however, died. The company was great in handling the return, sending a new one after we returned ours and although we were without it’s function for only two weeks, G was over the moon to have it back. I had no idea that people could bond to machines like that. I reflected with more sympathy after realizing how the washer’s repair issue left us upended for three weeks and sorely tested my patience.
G likes to do the grocery shopping and stopping at the pharmacy for any needs but I had to take over that task while he was recuperating. On one trip for meds and food, I stopped at the pharmacy first and our go-to guy, Guillaume, was surprised to see it was me, not G. Ever astute, he asked after G’s health and as a result, I left with loads that he plied me with to help ease his symptoms and a Covid test for each of us. I felt thoroughly handled, thinking I should probably see our friendly pharmacist more often if not only to keep from alarming the poor guy.
Then things became more exciting than I care for. Starting with the next item on my list – the grocery shopping. I was humming happily on the escalator down into the grocery store, stepping off the end, when the hem of my flowing slacks caught on the tread at the end of the steps. I quickly kicked off my shoe and set my rolling cart to the side while I tugged on the hem. To no avail as that greedy rat bastard was eager for more and continued to chomp up the leg material. The fight to regain my hem was clearly a lost cause which then gave way to increasing alarm at the prospect of being de-pants in front of my local Monoprix staffers and curious other onlookers. I could not place my hand on anything stationary as the only thing available was the moving handrail. This left me standing without support, on one foot (the one NOT caught) with the other foot in mid air above the edge that was chopping away at my pants, while I desperately held onto my disappearing leg material for dear life with both hands. You try that at the age of 69.
This problem became more urgent as there were new people arriving from above, coming down the continually moving escalator. At this point I had no less than three bystanders jump in, frantically yanking on my disappearing pant leg. How I managed to continue to keep my slacks on at all much less remain standing, eludes me. Probably pure panic adrenaline. Rescue came in the form of a grocery staffer who turned off the escalator. Those coming down now manually, walked passed me, as I was stuck on the side, and offered their sympathy (in French of course). I shook my head mournfully as they passed, making clucking noises that agreed with whatever the heck they were saying because I really wasn’t sure. I offered up several ‘désolés’ and ‘pardons’. When everyone had continued on their way, I was left, still standing on one leg, one hand on the pant leg and the other on the handrail which was blissfully at a stand still.
The staffer who had turned off the escalator gallantly tried to yank the material free but it was clearly a goner, as they say. He then produced a pair of scissors and giving me an apologetic shrug, trimmed off the bottom which freed me to back out of the way. As I retrieved my errant shoe and shopping cart, I again repeated my thanks and apologies. He replied in a fast stream of French, I nodded agreeing to whatever he was imparting and he finished by pointing out the elevator location. I again nodded and murmured my profuse thanks, departing to begin my food shopping. When I finished up at the cashier, I took an alternative exit that empties onto the road. I wasn’t going to chance my other pants leg going up the same escalator and if anyone read last month’s blog with G’s elevator mishap, there was no way on earth that I would dare take the elevator, should this great fiasco follow me there. I will miss the pants. But mostly I’m glad that no one got a look to check if I was wearing ‘Monday’ underwear on a ‘Tuesday’. Sorry – to those who have joined reading this journal and are in Europe, that’s totally an American joke. And to be honest, I also checked YouTube to make sure no one had filmed and posted something on “Woman’s pant caught in escalator”. Purely a sign of the times to have to verify that no one is sharing your mishaps online. That said, there are some real horror videos on YouTube of people losing balance and limbs on a variety of mechanical devices. My adventure however is not on it.
Although G finally shook his cold, I still felt it was too soon for him to go out a few days later, since he tired so quickly doing small things around the apartment. So I did chance our apartment elevator for another grocery run. I really should have known better. Bundled up, with rolling cart in hand, I got in on our 3rd floor (étage), which is in reality the 4th floor because here they start the ground floor as ‘0’, not ‘1’. As soon as the doors were shut, the entire elevator car (I’m not sure what they call it) began to shake so violently from shaft side to shaft side that I was almost knocked off my feet. As the decent continued I tried to remember if there was any truth to the survival myth of jumping up in order to soften any blows. As an aside – I did research later and one should lay down flat on the floor to survive. Then around the 2nd floor, the car decided to free fall to the zero level. Watching the floor indicator light as I dropped, I thought about a US TV character (sure of his imminent death) that use to shout “Here I come Elizabeth!”, pointing up to the heavens. Odd things that flitted through my mind and absolutely none of them useful. But it did land on the zero floor and opened the door, much to my shock. I was gratefully only left with a bit of a wrenched back.
At this point, I was far too shaken to continue out to the grocery store. I stood in the lobby of our building, catching my breath and immediately texted all of the neighbors in the building, warning them of the elevator malfunction. I propped the door open with a rubber bumper that sat in a corner – in order to prevent the car doors from closing, which in turn would prevent the elevator from answering a call for it on any floor. Next I texted the landlord (thank the universe for mobile phone texting) who responded that the elevator repair man was due in a day or so because our upstairs neighbor, Audrey, had had a similar episode the day before. The repairman thought it might be a lubrication issue. Personally I thought it might just make it fall faster but what do I know about elevators?
As I stood contemplating the stairs that I was about to take back up to our apartment with my cart, a neighbor (and good friend) from the 2nd floor came in from the street. Sonja has been our friend since the first week we moved in, acting as a translator before we got further in our language skills and just overall a help when needed. She insisted on grabbing my cart and walking me up all the way to our front door. Then she went back down to put a note on the elevator door. I got a text from Audrey telling me of her same experience and her alert to the landlord. Then about 15 minutes later I got a text with an apology from the landlord for not fully understanding how bad the incident was. Sonja must have really chewed him out because as clear as I thought my text had been, it had not elicited as strong as response from him for either Audrey or myself.
Sitting on a heating pad, drinking a mug of my favorite tea, I decided that this was not the month to underestimate the power of mechanical things. My interactions with the washer, the RoboRock, the escalator and the elevator had made me feel like I was marked for mishap. In the following days, we stuck to the stairs and the elevator remained under repair for three days before resuming service. It had always been a bit wonky but now runs smoother than it has since we moved in. I’m still keeping an eye on it. Trust is earned.
The temperatures continued under the freezing mark, the pantry was restocked and we began our French lesson sessions again. We were disheartened to discover that our favorite tutor (and now friend), Emeline, was leaving as she had taken another job. She was moving on to tutor French language to people who were applying for jobs in France. The hours were regular and the pay was better but most important, this job would be under contract. The school position she holds currently is considered entrepreneurial, her wages are not considered when she and her husband apply for a home mortgage. We were happy for her but sad we only had her teaching us for one more week before a new teacher, Alice, would start working with us. We shared a Galette des Rois with her to take home. She was so excited to get the charm in one of her slices. I admired it quite a bit! The one who gets the charm in their slice, is ‘Royalty’ for the day !
The month marched on, bills were paid, laundry was washed, French tutoring was delayed with Alice because she’d called in sick. It was time to see our new dentist. We’d had a dentist down the street that we were happy with but she’d chosen to move south, last fall. We’d been warned by the friends who recommended this (new to us) dentist that she was a bit eccentric and as it turned out, they were totally under-exaggerating – that’s not a phrase but it ought to be. Grossly underrated is overused.
She is a one-person office and the door to her office is off of a narrow hall on the ground floor inside a building which also houses apartments on the upper floors. We have been to her office twice now and the routine is the same. There is a small chair with a box outside the door to which she instructs you to put in your coat, scarf, hat and any bag you’re carrying. When she answers the door she is wearing an apron, a full face mask and gloves which remain in place for the entire visit. She takes the box, shutting you outside the door before returning with a towel, stretched between her two hands. You are instructed to place your health card and payment card in her towel which she then cleans with hand sanitizer. She retreats and returns with hand sanitizer gel that she squirts onto your hands. Only then can you cross the threshold. Inside to your immediate right is a matching small chair that now holds the box you put your belongings in. To your left and after you move further inside, is the office. As you sit in the dental chair, if you look about the office, you see that absolutely everything is covered in plastic; light switches, door handles, calculator, card charging machine, keyboards, etc. The only thing she’s missing is a hazmat suit.
The examination is unlike any we’ve been through. She already had our full dental X-rays but proceeded to make more, which were close ups. Then she photographed the backside of our teeth with mirrors so that when we viewed our entire set, we could see both sides of all teeth in excruciating detail. Next she gave the most thorough explanation of tooth bacteria and decay that we have ever received. Did you know that bacteria attacks the tooth in different places as you age? OH boy, oh howdy. We know this now and SO, SO much more. This exam took two hours, EACH. Our actual cleaning appointments were to be made for another time. When we left, four hours later, we were so bushed we made straight for the nearest bar. What better way to kill that nasty mouth bacteria than with an antiseptic cocktail – at the least it was certainly deserved. It was mutually decided that we put off the cleaning appointments for another month to build up some strength.
As this cold month came to a close, the last bit of excitement came in a package no bigger than a chicken’s egg. Relaxing in the living room, G caught the sight of a mouse running along the floor molding edge, headed for the kitchen. Up in a flash, we cornered the little bugger and trapped it with a colander. Sliding it onto a notebook, we marched to the balcony and first making sure no one was below, flung it out over the street. No clue if it survived the drop. G moaned about not taking a photo for the blog, then was quick to blame the downstairs restaurant which opened two months ago, despite the fact that there has always been a restaurant in that space since we’ve lived here. But more important than ‘why now?’ was the question of ‘how did it get in?’
A few years ago, to ban mosquitos from the apartment, I had sprayed foam insulation around any pipe which entered or exited all walls. Along with the screening we put up on all windows and the door guard at the bottom lip of our front door, our mosquito count last summer was a total of 2. They were both in the shower room, which led us to surmise they might have come up the shower drain. In any case, it showed the effectiveness of closing up gaps in our walls since we’d been using screening all along. So if we were so effective in keeping out mosquitos, how did a mouse get into our living room space?
Turning on the overhead lights and additionally armed with a flash light, we inspected all the exterior walls. In the living room, we found two unidentified blunt pipe ends which were cut even to the floor’s wood molding. Being dark and on dark brown molding, they were overlooked by us and by golly – wait for it – they both had the diameter of a chicken’s egg. We sealed them completely with duct tape, after stuffing in Brillo pads and double checked all walls, interior and exterior. I have no fear of a repeat visit of mice – unless they get desperate and chew through wire pad, which is not possible. More likely they’ll move onto another apartment or they’ll have to learn the mosquito shower drain trick. Don’t think I’ll share that thought with G – he’s squeamish enough as is.
Temperatures continued to slowly warm by month’s end and we made plans to visit Gent’s light festival in February. We visited a friend’s new home the last Sunday of the month and made sandwiches with sausages they grilled at table side, at their home as a “snack.” We decided the French really know how to make sandwiches. She, her husband and their two young sons had just moved closer to Lille. Instead of a 50 minute drive from Lille Centre (no metro), it’s now a 10 minute metro ride and an 8-minute drive for her husband to work. Greatly improved life for them, and a great life continues for us – we are lucky it is very good!
On our walk from the metro to their house G came across the following car and he found it amusing since it’s in English and not something you see everyday, especially in France. So, of course he had to share. I humored him, since he’s still upset about not having a picture of the mouse.
twokiddosoverseas.com 
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