Let’s go ahead and temper all of this euphoria & delight & Paris magical amazingness with a little bit of what I like to call “The Glamorous Life in Paris”!! This will be a recurring theme, and it’s very important to start singing Fergie’s song in your head. (G-L-A-M…).
Very important.
This is genuinely something I sing to myself, this song. It all started during training when I was hauling a gigantic tub of bright yellow vests (which, by the way, smell like B.O.) up the street w/ the two other new office staff to be cleaned at the Laundromat. “Oh the glamorous life here in Paris!”
And then when I started loading armfuls of disgusting sweat-smelling vests into the washing machine, I just started singing: “G-L-A-M…O-R…O-U-S”. It’s the theme song, it really is. I hope to share these moments with you on a regular basis. Hauling a tub of B.O. vests up the street and loading them in the washer by the armful. Don’t be jealous.
Please do take a moment to let Fergie’s
Glamorous play as the backdrop here; it really sets the scene.
Shall we continue?
The other night, I had the closing shift, and this was my dinner:
Cold congealed vegetable soup eaten out of the box. I realized too late the container couldn’t go in the microwave (curse you, foiled lining!!). Served with a side of stale day-old baguette. It’s like eating a rock.
Dumping trash cans into larger trash cans…
Coke cans, toilet paper, and other disgusting items joined together in harmony nightly…
My good friends, the cleaning supplies, for cleaning bathrooms, spraying sweaty helmets, wiping down tables…
Let’s not forget the vacuuming duties! And especially the rubber gloves I have to wear while vacuuming to avoid the static build-up and the resulting shock (read: mini electrocution) that occurs (happened during my first vacuuming session before I knew about the gloves).
Hauling bikes in and out, bruising my hand jamming the metal seat adjuster shut, perfecting the art of stacking bikes, and rotating them vertically on the rear wheel in confined spaces.
Another fantastic dinner in Paris…A mini can of lentils.
What’s that line in the song? Champagne, lentils, and all the finer things… No lentils? oh.
Oh this is my wet shoe from dropping a soaking wet swiffer wipe on my foot before mopping. And yes, dirty tire tracks on my leg. I am constantly dirty, in case you were wondering.
And, my favorite…29 and living the glamorous life in Paris…ladies and gentlemen…I clean toilets for a living!!!! Never thought I’d make it this far. It’s a dream, really.
But when I can come home at night and eat some of this:
Japanese noodles a la saveur “boeuf”….box of soup…or dry packet of soup mixed w/ boiling water. This is the life. This is how I survive during the week so I can afford rent. And pastries.
But to wake up in the morning, and have a glorious cup of fresh French coffee…
Oh wait, that’s powder, isn’t it? Yes. Because I don’t have a coffee maker or a French press.
And finally…I didn’t take a picture, you’re welcome, but the other night, a tour guide tracked in dog poop on his shoe, and then left me to clean it up. Scrubbing dog poop off the floor…in Paris!! That’s when I find myself singing some good old fashioned G-L-A-M…
Try not to be jealous everyone. If you want to get a dose of Parisian life, they have instant coffee AND powder soup in the States. And if you ever wonder, “What’s it like living in Paris?”, just bring a toilet brush to work, and give it a go, thinking about your college degree and 7 years of work experience, and scrub away. The glamour happens every day. The flossy flossy.
