Door always open.
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The laws of physics break down
Post-Thanksgiving-gorging, I have gained exactly one pound.
I do not understand this universe.
On a less confusing note, I finally tracked down a CD of the soundtrack for Ni Pour Ni Contre at a French music website. Then I forgot I'd ordered it. Weeks later, we got a pink "final notice" slip in our mailbox (the Rego Park post office doesn't believe in first notices--only final ones) with a French return address.
Could it be the Clermont-Ferrand film festival? That would be...
No, probably just their film market, not the festival. Still, that would...
No, probably some other--oh yeah! My CD.
At which point, I was accused of thinking anything that would let me avoid getting my festival hopes up. But that's what it was: My CD, in a weirdly mis-addressed envelope with stamps all over it. Obviously somebody had carefully copied the address in my order accurately, and then some know-it-all convinced them to make it more like a European address. So our zip code, 11374, was first written correctly and then heavily ballpointed--I'm guessing this was done standing in line in a French post office next to somebody whose cousin had been to America once--to become M374.
Anyway, now it's on my iPod and in my ears.
And I should be slogging through my word count instead of blogging.
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I do not understand this universe.
On a less confusing note, I finally tracked down a CD of the soundtrack for Ni Pour Ni Contre at a French music website. Then I forgot I'd ordered it. Weeks later, we got a pink "final notice" slip in our mailbox (the Rego Park post office doesn't believe in first notices--only final ones) with a French return address.
Could it be the Clermont-Ferrand film festival? That would be...
No, probably just their film market, not the festival. Still, that would...
No, probably some other--oh yeah! My CD.
At which point, I was accused of thinking anything that would let me avoid getting my festival hopes up. But that's what it was: My CD, in a weirdly mis-addressed envelope with stamps all over it. Obviously somebody had carefully copied the address in my order accurately, and then some know-it-all convinced them to make it more like a European address. So our zip code, 11374, was first written correctly and then heavily ballpointed--I'm guessing this was done standing in line in a French post office next to somebody whose cousin had been to America once--to become M374.
Anyway, now it's on my iPod and in my ears.
And I should be slogging through my word count instead of blogging.
Read/Post Comments (2)
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