rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Can't think of one

I just got back from the flea market at Clignancourt. It was definitely not as crowded as on the weekends, but the cool parts--Serpette, Paul Bert--were mostly closed.

Usually I don�t mind running the gauntlet of sleazy trainers and pleather jacket salesmen, but today my nerves were really frazzled, and I just couldn�t take it. The magic of ghetto shopping has faded for me, and the unpleasantness outstrips the fun by 10-to-1. So I don�t think I will be going there anytime soon.

The good news is that I realized something funny on the metro ride home. That there are a lot of older French women who look like that insane puppet from the old Hollywood Squares.

So now I�m at home, relaxing before I tackled the next part of the day: shopping. I have to get groceries because I have been eating out way too much lately. I reproduced one of Chez Gladine�s Chamber Pot Salads last night and that was pretty good except that I didn�t have any bread to sop the dressing up with. I made a mad dash to the North African primeurs at 8:30 pm to get a few salad supplies, and there was not only no bread, but the entire clientele was comprised of people like me! Young folks who don�t do their shopping at the �correct� hours and have to scramble. At some point in the very near future, French shops will be open late and on Sundays. I can�t wait to see this. It will make my life so much easier.

I am starting to fade. I think I need coffee. Which I will get at the cafe. I�ve got almost an entire pound of Peet�s French Roast in the fridge, but I like it when someone else makes it for me.

3:02 p.m. - 2001-08-20

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