le fantôme

Perhaps I've been away too long in a place where I can't readily communicate with others. Or perhaps I've gotten too involved in my most recent read (which is all about a creepy house and a creepy family whose members slowly seem to be losing their minds in a creepy way). Or perhaps I've been hanging out with too many skeletons.

Literally.

But I'm starting to think this apartment is haunted. It doesn't feel scary or uncomfortable here by any means (in fact, it's downright cozy and homey and wonderful), but small, strange occurrences keep happening.

For example, the other day, I dragged a chair into the bathroom so I could stand on it to look in the mirror. (There's no full-length mirror here and I'm short, so acrobatics are necessary.) I swear I didn't take the chair back out of the bathroom before leaving for the day, and when I came back, the chair was in the kitchen.

I figured I just wasn't remembering correctly. Maybe I did put the chair in the kitchen. Maybe eating a ridiculous amount of meat parts makes you forget entire chunks of time. 

I didn't think too much about it until I woke up this morning and the kitchen window was wide open (and very conveniently airing out the laundry I did last night and had hanging on a rack to dry -- thanks, Ghostie, for the help!). I know I didn't open that window. In fact, I probably couldn't have even opened that window if I wanted to because it took me a really long time to figure out how to close it.

And then today when I got back from wandering around Canal Saint-Martin and the 10th arrondissement, it was chilly in here, so I went to get my lululemon jacket and had trouble finding it. I swear I had draped it on a chair over my leather jacket this morning when I left the house (and I distinctly remember double-checking my lulu pockets for extra coins for subway fare), but this evening the leather jacket was on top, and the lulu jacket was underneath.

There has to be a logical explanation for this, right? Maybe I'm just not remembering everything completely? Meat coma? Plum brandy hallucination? Creation of imaginary friends to keep me company?

Anyway, other than the ghost thing, which really isn't bad at all (in fact, I suspect this is a very orderly, Type A ghost who enjoys household chores and having things arranged a certain way) today was nice (well, except for the horrific moment when I almost got plowed over by a bus while I was in a crosswalk and had the right of way -- seriously, I came about a foot away from becoming a ghost myself this afternoon -- not even exaggerating, it was that close).

I escaped the hordes of tourists and went to the 10th arrondissement. Lunch was at La Pointe du Groin, an off-the-beaten-path bar/tapas place that serves wine in magnums and has guests pay with tokens they get from a machine instead of with cash (tricky but fun way to get people to spend more). The prices were fantastic (happy hour all day!) -- I spent 20€ and had grouse terrine (I guess a grouse is kind of like a pigeon?), crudité, panacotta, two glasses of cider and an espresso. Not bad.

And then I took a long walk along the canal.