Urgh. I’m a little sad and starting to get cabin fever. I’ve been in the house all weekend. Okay, it’s only Saturday, but everything’s closed Sunday, so I don’t see myself getting out tomorrow. I was gonna go roller-blading with Sarah last night, but my host parents asked me to babysit last minute. Since they almost never ask me to babysit, I felt I should oblige. Sarah and I were gonna go to Albi today, but she had forgotten she had to go to a birthday party. So sad, so sad. It’s particularly sad because next weekend is my last weekend in
, and I have to babysit the whole weekend! Even Friday night! Toulouse
Sigh. Life is good, though; I shouldn’t be complaining. My dad is coming to visit me next Thursday, and Becky will be here the following Tuesday, and then it’s off to beaches, castles, more beaches, and gay
! And then home, to the good ol’ US of A and my mommy and my sisters and my friends. Yahoo! (If only Izzi were there, too, twould be perfect.) Paris
Anyhoo, I’m mostly feeling sad and cabin feverish because of PMS, so it’ll pass soon enough. And it appears that the mediatheque is open for a couple hours on Sundays, so maybe I’ll head over there. Yeeessssss, I think I will…
Jody has brought it to my attention that apparently I make grammatical errors in my writing that are of a sort and quantity as to make it clear that my English is suffering. Izzi used to whine that “they” were getting into her head. Meaning the French and their silly language, of course. I think Jody’s full of it. I’ve always had typos, and seeing as how I refuse to edit or proofread anything, well, the typos don’t get fixed. But then, she’s not totally full of it, because I, too, have noticed lately that I’ve been switching words. Or rather, spellings. For example, instead of “no,” I write “know.” Instead of “write,” I write “right.” I use “there” for “their” and “their” for “they’re.” I don’t normally have this problem, or at least not as bad, so maybe “they” are getting into my head. Which I’m sort of annoyed by, because I’m proud of my impeccable grammar and spelling, but I’m also happy, because I feel kind of…I don’t know...worldly, in a good way.
Which reminds me: the other day, I had to call an auberge de jeunesse (youth hostel) to make a reservation. Speaking a foreign language on the telephone is no piece of cake, and when I answer the phone, I usually have to say at some point, “Sorry, I don’t understand. I don’t speak French well.” But when I made the reservation, I actually got through the whole phone call without having to apologize or ask the woman to repeat herself three times. I did ask if we would be sleeping in a dormatoire, which apparently isn’t a word, or doesn’t mean what it does in English, but she understood what I was talking about so it was all good. I’m so proud of myself! I love it when French people can understand me! Which reminds me of another story [collective sigh]: that same day, I went to a French conversation group. There was a mix of French people and non-French people. Someone asked me some questions, and when I responded, one of the French guys asked me how long I’d been in
. When I said “nine months,” he said, “So you must have studied French before you came here.” Aw, how sweet! All in all, Thursday was a very ego-boosting day for me. France
Okay, enough gloating. I gotta go to bed. Everyone go to this website and wish my sis a happy birthday.