Monday, November 7, 2011

I NEED the Rainbow!

This morning the residents of the south of France emerged from their caves, blinking their eyes as this mysterious thing called "light" threatened to blind them. They looked around in wonder when they realized that they had not, in fact, passed the last 6 days in the bowels of an arc. The cleaned their fingers and toes of the mushrooms that had begun to grow between them and raised their faces to the sun in the hopes of erasing the pallor that comes from darkeness, dampness and imprisonment.

And this morning, like a troll leaving her dark place under the bridge,  I opened my terrace door to SUNLIGHT and stepped out to survey the mess left in the wake of what has seemed to be a monsoon. It has been raining cords and blowing like a tempest for almost 6 days. This is not normal here in the south and the weather has taken it's toll on everyone.

Six days ago I put my laundry out to dry. Bad idea. Two hours later "the weather" started and I just left everything there. It was all wetter and heavier than when it came out of the washer and I had no place to put it without it growing mold. So on the terrace it stayed. Sort of. Today, during our brief respite, I pulled my leopard-print shirt off the roof, disentangled my towel from the oleander plant, and dug out 2 pair of underwear that were embedded in  plant soil.  I can see another pair on the roof below but I just can't get to them and several socks are just...gone. On the other hand I gained a plant and a bucket that blew in from somewhere.

On top of that, for the second time in 2 weeks, the roof leaked into my closet, leaving my clothes soaked, smelly and stained. The water has been dripping past the big, old beams in my apartment leaving the stain of centuries and the smell of...I don't know....great-great grandma's house that hasn't had the windows open in 22 years....after she died. That sort of smell. So now I've got clothes, sheets, and towels hanging from every available space inside, with the heat on trying to get it all dry. It feels like a dry cleaners in here with all the heat and humidity and the windows are starting to fog.

My landlord says I should call the insurance company and file a claim. Oh for god's sakes, right now I'm dealing with the state insurance agency and one French agency requiring every single paper I have plus my agreement for the 459th time that I WILL NOT WORK IN FRANCE is enough for one week! I'll take the hit.

The weather forecast says we're going to get more tomorrow. At least I didn't have to be rescued by firefighters or lose almost everything I own as many have in the past few days. But I'm still crabby. And still in my bathrobe because it's the only thing that's dry.

Obviously, the mold is growing in the section of my brain that generally produces good humor. And so I'd better stop. If you don't hear from me again, please send help. I'll be the brown, wrinkled prune, shriveled up inside a fluffy white bathrobe, floating in a blue bucket, in a flooded apartment in Aix en Provence.

Cheers... so to speak!



  1. YOu poor thing Delana, this doesn't sound good! Thank goodness we know about yoru sense of humour and inbuilt optimism, you'll bounce right back!!

  2. I am not built to whether damaging weather well. I don't know how people come back from things like floods and fires. I always said that if my kids got lice I would have just moved from the house rather than try to get rid of them. See, you have some sort of Midwestern stamina that's impressive.

  3. If you'd wanted the rainy season you would have moved to the Tropics...every sympathy.

  4. Oh, oh. There's a trend developing here among South of France bloggers. Please take care. I suppose it applies to the entire populace, not just bloggers.

  5. Delana, quite a change from the S'mores. I have an old home as well (not by your standards certainly) and cannot think of anything worse than a leak. What is that smell? Hope all is better soon.

  6. Sorry to hear about all this - it iwll get better I'm sure. You'll be in Paris in december, jsut let me know when and where and I would love to meet up with you again. I've been trying to email you for the longest time, but well, it's that time thing.
    I've been having a good time exploring your blog! Lot of adventures!
    WIll talk soon,

  7. I'm sorry you've lost some of your clothes! Living up in le Nord I'm used to it being rainy, but even here it hasn't rained continuously for 6 days! That must be taxing. Think of it as making up for all the sunny days you've enjoyed while we've been suffering, haha.

    p.s. I loved the writing in this post! At least something horrible could be used to write beautifully.

  8. I once owned a house that leaked and I no longer enjoy a good rain. In fact, I secretly, shamefully, selfishly, have enjoyed no rain in Texas this year. I am sure this would make me a bad person, if in fact, I was responsible for withholding the rain. Here's to sunnier days in Aix!

  9. Nothing like a week of rain to make the sunshine seem like the most magnificent thing in the world. Good luck with the clothes! Of course, finding some new ones in France shouldn't be a hardship!

  10. Cheeze Delana... put on your big girl pannies, (a knock off word from my friend Mary "Sara, is this gonna' be a pannyhose affair?") and get over it!!!!!!!!!
    What kind of Viking girl cries over a little Mistral(? )and the opportunity to need a trip to the re-sale shop? You didn't need ta' shovel did you?
    Come on Girlfriend.
    How 'bout a Mistral blog? That would be good to know more about!
    Seriously, sending a hug--I hate freak smells!

  11. I know it's not fun to go through days of rain, but your blog post was fun to read, all the same. And constant rain is the very reason I'd like to move from the northwest... it really makes "cheerful" hard, doesn't it? I'll be hoping for some sun soon for you!


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