"Dégage!"

Still not much going on. It’s the weekend, so mostly staying up late and sleeping in. Also, working on my project that is due tomorrow.

I am starting to get really fed up with my old people. I am abundantly grateful that I do not have to stay here for a semester or a year, like many of the people I have met. I could not stand living with them for that long. I am not even sure if I am going to make it another week.

Volume I : The Food

The food is bizarre. We start out with an appetizer. Sometimes it is a salad, which is generally good, but the dishes get weirder and weirder as the month goes on. Sometimes it is burnt toast. Sometimes it is wet bread.

Then we move on to the main dish, which is the part that has me quaking in terror for an hour before the meal. I never know what it is going to be. Madame has a penchant for plopping things on top of other things and calling it a meal. For example, one night we had ratatouille. It was delicious. But then a week later, when Vaune came over, we had the same ratatouille, which had been sitting in the fridge, and Madame just plopped some white fish down on top of it and called it a meal. Recently we also had Brussels sprouts with random sausages plopped down on them.

Another thing that Madame does is that she makes three of whatever it is that we are eating. This seems normal, as there are three of us (Madame, Monsieur and me), but Madame never eats hers. Whatever she makes, she always says, « Ça ne me convient pas, » which means, « It doesn’t agree with me. » So she makes food that makes her sick and then doesn’t eat it. Logical. Monsieur will eat one of whatever she makes (for example, random sausage plopped on Brussels sprouts) and she expects me to eat two. Every single night I tell her she makes too much food and that I can’t eat all of it, it will make me sick. Every night she freaks out if I don’t eat it.

Last night she made some bizarre concoction that resembled franks 'n' beans, and then insisted that I eat it with lettuce. Let me just tell you, lettuce soaked in vinaigrette and then made soggy by franks 'n' beans sauce is disgusting. And she made me clean my plate. Like I was five.

Dessert is usually fine. Sometimes it’s fruit, sometimes chocolate. The only time I had a problem with dessert was when it was just crêpe bread, and she made me put hot cocoa mix on the inside. I don’t even like crêpes that much, and this was just crunchy and gross.

I have saved the worst food experience for last. This one surpasses the others, and has become known among my friends. It began with one night of canned ravioli, which I didn’t finish because she made enough for ten people (it just really bugs me when she makes all this food every night and then gets mad if I don’t finish it). The next night she took the leftover ravioli (which already didn’t taste good) and wrapped it in an omelet. But this was no ordinary omelet. It was an extraordinarily grey and rubbery omelet. This was too much for me and after a few bites I informed her that I do not generally eat eggs (which is true). This prompted her to scoop out the mushy eggy ravioli from the inside of the omelet and plop it onto my plate. Yum.

Perhaps later I will write Volume II : The Constantly Blaming Me for Things Her Husband Does, and Volume III : Yes I Already Shut My Damn Shutters, Woman, So Stop Asking Me for the Millionth Time.