Day two has ended, and I’m cowering beneath my bed covers.  I still have all my day clothes on, blue jeans, tee shirt, jacket, and for awhile, tennis shoes.  It has rained all day and the temperature has stayed low enough for the owners of the school to start a fire in the only fireplace for the whole monastery.  It’s unfortunate that the backdraft in the salon filled the room with so much smoke that no one was able to sit in front of the opening for warmth.

I got a mere 4 hours of sleep last night.  I woke up at 1:30 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep until 5:30.  I was dizzy from no sleep when I went down to breakfast.  Well, breakfast was over and put away due to the fact that I stayed in bed too long.

The worst part of the day was that I couldn’t understand a single word that anyone was saying.  I also couldn’t think of an answer to any of the garbled questions that they asked me.  All I could say was Oui and Je suis désolée.  (Look it up yourselves.  If I can’t understand French, I’m sure not going to help you.)  It was like my brain decided to take a vacation in another part of France and left me to tote around an empty head.

The interesting thing is my first class of the day was great.  We spent time working on things that I needed to know.  I was so excited and attentive.  Then, as soon as I walked out of the room, I couldn’t have told you what my teacher’s name was much less what she taught. It was downhill from there.

I fluctuated all day between wanting to laugh until I cried and cry until I laughed.  At one point in my afternoon class, I got a case of the giggles and couldn’t stop. I think the teacher thought I was crying because I kept wiping away tears and my shoulders were heaving up and down.  The last time I tried to stifle that kind of laughter I was 9 years old in church with my older sister.  I got a spanking when I got home.

I just can’t quit thinking about how absurd this adventure is.  I sure hope my husband isn’t expecting a dissertation in French when I get back home.  At dinner this evening, I fought through the urge to push back my chair, exit the large dining room with everyone seated at one very long, family-style table, and go pack my bags.  Half of the students don’t know my name because I’m not even pronouncing it right.   But, we are so secluded here in Provence that I’m afraid it would take a taxi at least a day and a half to find me.  So, I’m staying for another day.

It occurred to me as I was doing my homework–HOMEWORK!–this evening that my problem is concentration.  I can’t keep a thought in my brain. I, for sure, can’t memorize the complete French vocabulary that I should have known before I got here. I am in desperate need of Ritalin.  I will pay anything for a FedEx’d package to arrive at the door of the school.  I’ve looked online without success.  I think I’m going to need a prescription.  And while I’m at it, I could use a good supply of Xanax.  That stuff worked miracles when I was going through my chemo so very long ago–or so it seems.

I’m thinking of getting out of bed and putting my jammies on.  Or, maybe I’ll just sleep in these clothes, then get up and traipse down to breakfast tomorrow morning.  I’d like to get there in time for the natural yogurt and dry cereal.  More about the food (and napkins) tomorrow.

A bientôt!