I found it kind of nice to have my camera in my bag (as opposed to around my neck) as I walked through the museum. All you could do was appreciate the work inside and not worry about taking pictures at all. I think I like this museum better than the Louvre... We even got a chance to check out the special exhibit before we left, it was all about style during the Impressionist movement. There were both paintings of men and women all dressed up, and the dresses and costumes (men's suits) in cases, so that was really neat to look at. Sheila and I headed home around five. We meandered through the boutiques at Palais de Congres on our way home since we used Porte Maillot to get home. I took a few more fashion-related pictures for my project.
Madame got home about 20 minutes after we did, and changed our bed sheets. She said she was planning on getting up (and leaving the house) pretty early tomorrow, so there wouldn't be time to do it then. She had picked up my medications for me, so I paid her back for them. She made a comment about how dirty my desk was (the word she uses to describe it is usually bizarre)
, so I cleaned it while she was working on the bed linens and running the vacuum. I've managed to figure out that living in a slightly-disorganized mess doesn't necessarily bother me, but I definitely feel better when things are cleaned up and tidied. I'm also never going to tell myself to clean something, someone else has to do it. Sheila and I had this conversation earlier today while we were walking to Porte Maillot
to go to Musée d'Orsay,
she keeps all of her things neat and tidy (and disinfected), and I need her to walk into my bedroom when we get our house together back in California and flat out tell me I need to clean it, or I'll never do it. Needless to say, the common areas of our house should be spotless. We had chicken, pasta, a salad, and cheese for dinner. We ended up having a big conversation about how some of the girls in our program have really bizarre eating habits. Some won't eat seafood, some will only eat chicken, some won't eat vegetables, things like that. I made the comment that those things sound a bit more ridiculous than what I have to do. "Je suis d'accord avec toi!
" (I agree with you!) Madame piped up as she wiped down the counter. She continued to say that I'm actually easy to cook for since I like everything, and the no gluten thing is the only problem I have, and it's not my choice. She doesn't understand how Americans (especially) do this "I don't eat _____" thing just because they don't like something. She's forgiving when it's because of a medical condition like what I have, but not when it's a matter of sheer pickiness. Joan was a vegan/vegetarian before she came to France, and because she understood how the French viewed eating habits like that, she stopped that diet and worked meat back into her diet. She was absolutely sick for a couple months, but now she's fine, and she's not going back. I told you... French people don't take too well to picky eaters...