This week started off well enough. Then that flat tire thing happened. And that was no big deal because I handled it well enough. And then, the next day, another flat tire happened. So I had to take the bus home, which stresses me out. Not the bus itself, but taking the bus with a bike is stressful. Everyone is waiting for you to put your bike on or get it off and there is all this pressure and inevitably you pull the wrong lever and drop your bike in the middle of a busy street known as Chicago Avenue. In between all of this, I was cramming in a lot of freelance work and had a lot of nine-to-five work to see to, and I just got über stressed in general. Plus I couldn't make it to the pool or yoga or obviously ride my bike or eat things that are good for me. I could probably find about six more things to make the week more dramatic and horrible, but to make an already-long-enough story short, I was not feeling great.
By Thursday I was totally fried. I never miss Thursday night French class. Never ever never ever. But I needed to try taking a few hours off of life. So I headed home to where my two good friends and roomies were. The second I walked in the door, I unloaded everything on them. About the bike and the work and the this and the that. They patiently listened, then one handed me a dinner of delicious leftovers and another offered to accompany to a coffee shop so we could both get work done. They didn't even know how much I needed those things. I was SO hungry and SO unmotivated to spend the rest of my night working.
And just having some human beings to unload my complaints to felt great. Especially because I internalize things a lot and think because I moved to big bad Paris alone, I can handle anything. And I probably can. But it's nice when I don't have to.
The week is over. Tomorrow starts a new one. Hooray!