I'm so-oh-oh tired, I've hardly slept a wink

le perpétuel sommeil

de Charles de Maigny, tombeau
Pierre Bontemps, 1557
Musée du Louvre

As soon as David finishes in the shower, that is where we are heading, from as soon as we can possibly get there, until they close at 6 pm. Then drinks with a friend nearby.

Sam is off to Spain. I dropped him at the train station in Mantes la Jolie for the 8:19 am, which he blessdly agreed to take to get a RER in Paris out to Roissy. Driving to the airport was getting to be a weekly, and then daily (for the end of this week) occurrence, but I decided everyone is taking the mass transit system. He'll be back August 19, and I hope he has a won-der-ful time and comes back much better at speaking and conjugating in Spanish!

He isn't staying with the same couple, who have a grown daughter living in Zaragoza, because senora's mother is sick and hospitalized there, but she told them to tell Sam that he should come to the house whenever he likes. He left with the Christmas present he never sent to her to give to her now.

Oh, Sam.

So, he'll be getting to know another couple, either with children grown and out of the house or none yet, because none are listed on the information sheet. I am just so pleased that he is going back to get to know the people of this small, agricultural village outside Zaragoza called Gelsa better and show them his appreciation for their reception last summer. I would love it if he were to offer his services in exchange for a room and board next summer, but I musn't get ahead of Sam's readiness for full-blown humanity. One step at a time!

David leaves tomorrow.

Sadness.

It is impossibly, unbelievably, oppressively hot. Float around in the pool hot. Or mint juleps hot. Or, I suppose, marble corridors of the Louvre hot.

Definitely AC on in the BMW hot. We're going to do the oh so Texas thing of driving the air conditioned BMW directly to the parking lot under the Louvre, to emerge in the underground entry hall and proceed to those marble salles d'exposition. Perhaps it will be (oh, here I go, saying it again, twice in one entry) blessedly raining when it is time to brave the streets to get to chez notre ami.

I just checked the météo; 29° C, or 84° F. It feels hotter. The dogs are plastered to the terra cotta tile floor. There is a little wind, and it says thunder showers at cocktail hour. Perhaps I'll tuck a little black umbrella in my bag.

David is having an allergy attack. Sounds bad, even from here in the living room, with Chloé keeping me snug and warm in the arm chair.

Thank you, Chloé.
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