This morning, I got up early, and decided, that in honour of All Hallow’s Eve, where the sacred tradition of dressing up pre-dates the commercial holiday that besets us, I was going to put on eyeliner. I discovered my beloved black gel liner has dried up, and so it had to be brown eyebrow pencil. The situation will have to be rectified when I next go into town.
And despite my getting up early, I missed the first and second bus. I was assured there would be another by Google, and so I thought I’d be alright, traffic conditions considered and all, but then I arrived at the busstop, realised that Maps had been thoroughly deceived, and opted to take a taxi, again. I am not sure whether to pity or congratulate the chauffeurs in this area, because they are getting 1/3 of a linguistics degree for free just for driving me and letting me talk. It is nice though, because I really, really don’t talk to enough people, and it shows, for instance:
So you remember the postman, who comes in the mornings to deliver letters to us at my company (there is another who comes to collect letters from us in the afternoon)? Well, he asked me out to the cinema today.
And I said, In what sense?
And he said, Here, let me give you my number.
And like a lemon I go and get him some paper and a pen. And he leaves me his number and says, Text me yes or no.
And I thank him, and he goes, and I walk away thinking, Aaaaaaawkwaaaaaaard. Yikes.
And I go and ask the two friendly ladies who work in Start Up about the letter he brought (addressed to no one obvious to me), and whether this guy was just asking me in a friendly way, or…?
Oh no, don’t go out with him!, they said. Unless you fancy him, that is?
Oh goodness, no! I cry.
And thus, my friends, I have been beautifully deceived in the intentions of our morning postman. I wish I could say this is the first time this has happened, where I have liked someone as a person, as a pal, and they have asked me out, and I answer, “As friends, right?” I mean, I’ll be honest, even asking me to the cinema as friends I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that – I don’t know this guy beyond the morning post-delivery chat.
And is this vast imposter syndrome on my part, a remnant of my self-esteem issues, the part of me that thinks “Goodness, they couldn’t mean that, surely”? Or is it that I have learnt to think that no one in their right mind would dare ask me Out out in such circumstances?
Yes, until recently, arguably even now, I didn’t consider myself anything very special in terms of significant other material. I have a long history of unrequited love behind me. I broke some hearts, but more often than not it was mine that was broken, and the hearts I did break – well! – I was cruel to be kind, after being kind to be kind. I was also perhaps careless, hopeless, and young.
Anyway, to those of us out there reading this that can relate, I feel you, and I know you will be happy.
Other than that, it was an alright day. I did some more work on our catalogue of keys, and spent time filling out the same form I did yesterday, but electronically. I may just go mad.
I got out of work, having had another talk of reassurance with my colleague about whether I can in good conscience not reject the postman over text (don’t contact him, she said), and went and got more stamps. I know what you’re thinking. No, as fate would have it, I went in, got my stamps, and the vaguest interruption was a kid entering saying “Un bonbon ou un sort?” in the middle of the post office, and I almost reached into my bag for my Anise de Flavigny box. Bless his heart. I saw quite a few cherubs dressed as demonically as they dared and their parents making brave attempts, too, on my way out of St Maur.
I got home. I thought I’d be in bed early, but my landlady’s daughter had a friend over and they were preparing for a Halloween party they were both going to, and, boy, were they loud. I spent most of the evening texting friends who weren’t out, and it was sweet. It was one of my very good friends in Edinburgh who said, at least you have good friends over here (in the UK). You know what, though? I think I’m increasing my store here (in France), though, too. I just need to organise myself better, and make time, and live my moments to the fullest (but rest, too).
What have I learnt?
Recurring lesson:
- It’s ok to say no. It’s kind to say no –
1. Your first duty of care is to YOURSELF.
2. You don’t waste other people’s time when you know you can’t deliver what they want. - Set timers – leave with plenty of time to spare. After all, you never know what may occur on the way.
- La Poste does deliver to the UK, and vice versa, Royal Mail will get your missive over the Channel, and there is no nicer surprise than receiving a letter from someone who is important to you.
Take care of yourselves, friends. And, because I love Gàidhlig,
Oidhche Shamhna shona dhut! 🎃
At Least Afloat 