Moka java is the perfect shade of grey

.1. Another weird story from my life.

Moka Java doesn’t like me. There’s a Treats beneath mon École and to which I go at least three times a day to grab a java. Without fail, the moka java always runs out as I am pressing the button. It’s since become a joke with the mother/son team who own the coffee shop.

When I walk in, they prep themselves to replenish the moka java.

It makes me a little sad. I thought I had a delicate way about me with the café, but apparently not.

.2. I’ve been hearing rumblings that are confusing me. These rumblings would appear to indicate that nothing is black and white, but rather this shade called grey.

Que?

I don’t understand this. Life is so simple when we slot and categorise and see only black and white. WHAT IS THIS GREY TAKING OVER MY LIFE AND WHY IS IT BOTHERING ME SO MUCH?

Frankly, it’s leaving me a little hysterical.

.3. Have you ever become emotionally attached to a person whose already dating someone else? Would you care to share your stories with me? BEAVER, this one’s for you…if you’ve got anything to give.

.4. Oh my god. The woman next to me just snorted and followed it up with a burp.

Aaaand she’s snorted again.

I wouldn’t call myself a prude, but isn’t this improper behaviour y’all? I mean, I get that she’s comfortable and all…and I’m really happy she is so at ease in such a public arena such as notre École, but “what ze f*ck, lady?”

.5. The elevator at mon École doesn’t have a number thing which lights up as you ascend and descend telling you which floor you’ve reached. Neither does it make that ‘ding’ sound as you move, so you don’t have any way of knowing which floor you’re on.

What happens when you get stuck and have to call that person in the little box from the black telephone?
“I’m stuck in the elevator”
“Which floor?”
“I don’t know”
“What are you stupid?”
“No, I don’t think so…but then again…”
“Seriously, just look up and tell me what number is lit up”
“There are no number things that light up”
“Oh”
“Yeah. Uhm. So…psst…there’s a woman in here snorting and burping. Think you can get us out relatively quickly? She keeps staring at herself in the mirror and it’s freaking me out”
“Yeah, we’ll come and get you. It’ll take us around 72 days to run up the stairs and figure out where you’re stuck”
“Cool, I have a moka java with me, thanks”
“bye”
“bye! You’re awesome!”

Ok, so really, it’s more like a basket than an elevator, but that’s neither here nor there.

The other day, I walked in to the elevator with three other people. Since arriving at l’école, I have always believed – nothing grey about that – that our elevator is awkwardly shaped. It’s narrow and long and so when people get on, no one really knows where to stand. There’s no proper Feng Shui to the elevator shape.

So, as I was standing there awkwardly with the three others (none of whom I know), I declared: “Don’t you think this elevator is awkwardly shaped?” to anyone who would respond.

I heard a few mumblings, saw a few eyebrows cock up into the air and was met with complete silence. It was obvious that they’d not heard me and so I decided to pursue the engaging topic: “I think it’s because it’s shaped like an ill-placed rectangle, much like a hospital elevator only there’s no beds coming in here or maybe there is? Ha ha ha.”

No one answered, two people got off some floor – can’t tell you the number, ‘cus, well, there are no lights to indicate the floor number – and one guy remained behind. He stared at me, I smiled at him and finally offered: “Maybe it’s just too early in the morning?”

He smiled and said “Maybe” as he got off on another floor, the number of which NATURALLY, I don’t know.

I love making new friends.