The daily duties get much better.
I needed to vacuum. Well, the vacuum was making a loud siren noise and smelling of burnt engine. At this point I was faced with a dilemma. It is late July in Paris, which means not much in the way of work is getting done. So I could haul the vacuum through the streets of Paris looking for someone to help "La Americana" and get nowhere or try to fix it myself. Guess which one I chose.
Code blue on one Bosch.
Trust me I knew this was a bad idea once the deed was done, but it was far too late, and I was far too irritated. Purchasing a new one (and trust me it will be new, no more Craig's List for me) turned out to be, well, a "Paris experience".
Go to Target or Wal-Mart and pick one right off the shelf. No. Not how things work here in Paris.
Go to Darty jockey with other competing customers for a sales clerk in a fresh red vest. Beat out the others only because you are a woman and thank God red vest wearer was male. O, but not so fast. This is Paris after all. That option is not available. Try other options. Non,...pas...non...pas...all in all that is no in French. These and every other shining vacuum on the shelves are out of stock. I even tried the "be very calm and no talking response", he even showed me the computer screen to drive home his point. Turns out I could have gotten an MRI easier. So I paid and was ever so nicely informed in very slow French that it would be ready for pick up Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.
Upon leaving the store Jaylee looks up at me and says, "I thought we were getting a vacuum."