And it came in spades. Also to note, it’s the first time I didn’t cover my seat with its rain protecting device. There was no chance in hell it wasn’t gonna rain.

My days have been busy! I have a part-time semi-profitable job. I will be teaching kids. Me teaching kids. I think that is one of the signs of the apocalypse. It’s a job and I need it, so…  Tomorrow marks my first day as Miss Carla, Teacher Extraordinaire. So I’ve been going around meeting people and getting files and such (such includes outfitting myself in a tweed suit, of course) to start this adventure in teaching.

I have also taken it upon myself to help this Canadian guy that probably doesn’t even need/want help. During one of my meetings (in a bar, of course, since half my interviews/work related affairs have taken place in bars - this reminds me of that line from The Office "Chili’s is the new golf course.
It’s where business happens. Small Businessman Magazine." "It said that?" "It will. I sent it in. Letter to the editor."), we started talking to this Canadian guy who looked like the poster child for "sweet, helpless, adorable guy". Basically a Canadian Freddie Prinze Jr. Anyway, he told us that he’s in town because his mother is having some experimental chemo done and that’s when all the bells went off in my brain. Must. Help. Canada. Unfortunately, by the time the bells stopped ringing and my brain started functioning, the guy had left the bar and gone onto cutting his hair. And so I have been sleuthing around and thanks to Cara (the teacher I am taking over for), I narrowed down his hotel to 2 possible ones. Quick phone call to very understanding, very eager to help nun and I found out his room #. So I sent an email to the general hotel email and I just got a reply that said the msg has been delivered. I am bursting with proud and hope I can help these people a little. Oh, I’m gloating too smugly. 

You’d think I work in a mine 12 hours a day and then I head to my 8 hour job in a field planting tomatoes, if you saw how tired I am. My eyes weep of their own accord and I am ready to head to beddy bye and it’s merely 7pm. All this to show how pathetic I am.

I made €120 today and I couldn’t be prouder of myself. This is the only honest (HA! This statement is quite funny if you knew how I made my money) day’s work I’ve had since I moved back. And, although you might be wondering, I assure you we have spent just a tad over that in the last (I can’t even begin counting) months. This money pays for our new monitor, or 2/3 of it. All 22 glorious inches of it. Now I can see what goes on on the right side of my monitor. Which isn’t much, surprisingly. 

I am so tired. I taught an English lesson on Thursday. To the most awesome kid. I am usually terrified of children, because they tend to tell the truth about everything. I, on the other hand, tend to shy away from the truth any chance I get. And yet, this kid was fun. And she liked me! Take that! I was wiped after an hour and a half. I must get in the habit of doing, because I suck at it. And now, all fingers crossed, I may have a very busy teaching schedule ahead of me from the 1st of March on. That would totally rock my world. A paycheck, people! *swoon*

And so I have next week to clean this house like it’s never been cleaned and then forget about it, as I join the employed again and finally become a productive member of society. That might be a bit of an overstatement, but I’m a dreamer and that’s what I do. 

It’s one of those days in which you’re peacefully watching "Pushing Daisies" whilst having a delicious lunch, and suddenly a crash echoes from the computer room. It’s pretty much your average Sunday around here. I didn’t even bother lifting my bumm from the chair, because this happens every other second. Except, today IT happened. My dumb cats killed my beautiful 19" LCD monitor. My Black Friday steal met its untimely demise to the furry hands of one of the three monsters. I’d rather not know who it was, because yes I do love them and all, but I also love me "a bit of the old ultraviolence". And so the right part of my screen is all broken lines and a giant bruise (it literally looks like a bruise, it’d be almost amusing if I could afford a new monitor). Fortunately not much goes around down there, I think I can endure however long it takes for us to scrounge up enough money for a new monitor.

And so this post comes from a broken monitor, just like a sad child might come from a broken home. And I am not ashamed to admit that I find myself "massaging" the bruised and broken part of the monitor like an eager sport doctor would massage the top athlete’s muscly thighs. And sometimes, when I push just right, the pixels start realigning themselves and turning the right color and my heart flutters with happiness. If only I could recreate this little miracle in my day to day. 

I was wasting time on last.fm, trying to listen to my own radio station (enamoured with yourself much?) and failing (I need to subscribe to listen to my own music?). Out of sheer boredom, I checked the concerts in my area and was blown away! Not only are the Backstreet Boys reuniting, but they’re also bringing it to Rome! They must be desperate for money (and way too hopeful that someone’s going to go see them). Anyhoot, I have found out that Autechre is playing in Rome on the 15th of March, so I have to take the Benjammin there. Where he’ll have to take me (and peel me off the lead singer) is to go see Gogol Bordello. Oh mama! I have nothing but love for them.

I had an interview today and I don’t care how it went, I’m still smitten by the woman I had it with. She was fun, she was smiling and she was impressed by my variegated resume. I am currently battling with a sinus headache that starts at the back of my eyes and navigates all the way down to my teeth. However, there’s love flowing through my veins and nothing can stop me.

I have tickets! Now I must go practice ripping my bra off and throwing it at lead singers (I’ll let Chubby play the lead singer today). 

I guess the stage was set for us: 2 flights, trips on the metro, people coughing without covering their mouths (what’s up with that?). And so now we have befallen with the legendary sniffles. Don’t let the cuteness of the word "sniffles" fool you, my friends, because it is ugly. Our apartment has turned into a leper colony. The moans follow each other and echo throughout the rooms. I slept a total of 15 minutes last night and just gave up entirely at 6am. I am eating Ben’s weight in clementines, but the power of vitamin C still hasn’t saved me (at least I should be swearing off scurvy…). Also in tragic news: we have run out of shower soothers, which are the only thing that has actively helped us so far. I am seriously considering smearing myself in Vicks Vaporub and seeing what happens (I might have to craft me some aluminum foil pants so as to not slip off furniture). Ben has been talking about lunch since 9:46am. He has clearly lost his mind.

Last night we watched Juno and it was terribly cute. + Michael Cera is in it, so that’s all I need. Also in my current obsessions: crema di aceto balsamico. I have had it in salad, on crackers, straight out of the bottle. It is so good it makes me want to eat salad. 

My recent Parisian getaway can be summed up in those 2 words. Ok, it wasn’t just buttery, it was also very enjoyable. However, if you were to guess what is flowing through my veins right now, you’d be wrong in thinking it’s my usual Italian nobility infused blue blood. The answer would be, once again, butter. It had slipped my mind what a delicious city Paris is, but we ate enough of it that I fear I can never forget it now.

Our hotel was in the perfect location for my obsession with le Centre Pompidou. The funniest thing about the room was the bathroom. It was so tiny that every time I bent over to brush my teeth, my butt would be opening the door. The shower was also so tiny that I would be constantly bumping the water control knobby thing so as to either scorch or freeze myself (fortunately it was usually more on the scorching side…). + the door to the shower either didn’t close or, if it closed, would have second thoughts about releasing you. And despite all this, and the uncomfortable bed, I’d still run back to this hotel.

We walked Paris left and right and high and low and we both enjoyed it. We were as lucky as being in Paris the first Sunday of the month, when all museums are free! So we did Musèe Rodin, Picasso and the Centre Pompidou all in one day (and lived to tell the story.). We did Musèe Marmottan the day before and then avoided all the other museums altogether. I would’ve liked to take Ben to Musèe d’Orsay, but we have to leave something for next time! I did manage to take him to the mosque to drink my favorite mint tea. It was a bittersweet experience, since the place is so crowded now you basically sit in layers. The tea was still good and minty fresh. Back when I used to go there *fumble* years ago, it was a nice, tranquil outing, not so much anymore (unless a rave is your idea of "quiet time").

We walked and walked and walked and saw a bunch of stuff. I looked for the one yarn store I had written down before going: La droguerie. We went there on Saturday afternoon and it was closing (who the heck closes a shop at 6.45pm?!). I returned on Monday morning and realized the shop opens at 2pm on Mondays(again, wth!?). I finally made it in and touched everything. HA! I’ll show you snooty Parisians trying to keep me away from your yarn shop! Everything was beyond expensive, but very colourful. I ended up buying some bamboo yarn mixed with some mohair so I can make a scarf. And a scarf and mittens kit. I also bought A LOT of Laine Mèche which I hope can be spun into yarn. It is white, so I may have to spin AND dye my own yarn. Hide your children, women, this is going to get messy!

Yesterday was our 5th wedding anniversary (is that wood? Paper? Butter, per chance?), which I spent complaining about how tired I was. And tired I am, let me tell you. I spend so much time worrying about not falling flat on my face and losing all of my teeth with every step I take, that at the end of the day I’m exhausted both physically and mentally. + the combination of cobblestone and wet didn’t help me any.

I would kill for a fresh croissant just about now.

Because Marlon Brando knew exactly what was going on when he reached out for that stick of butter…