7 Days. In other words: One week, Siete dias, sept jour, un semaine, una semana, .25 of a month. That’s how long it takes for most wisdom tooth operation stitches to dissolve, how long it takes for milk to rot in your fridge, how long a teenager’s pimple lasts after picture day, and how long it will take me to kiss bread, cheese, wine, and all other edible threats to my flawless diet goodbye.
Today I buckled down and deemed it a research day. First I researched the back of my eyelids for way longer than I should have, then I researched by looking out my window and noticing that it was grey and cloudy. Then I learned Julie doesn’t adore oatmeal, and we also listened to some educational TedTalks on ted.com. After breakfast, while I was busy researching Mason Jennings music online, Julie asked me to go to town to get the dry cleaning for Tom’s trip home….which, is/was TODAY.
You won’t believe this, I found a NEW way to get to Chamonix. A special, hidden path, where probably 6 or 7,000 others have gone before. I made it the entire 8km in 38 minutes and with time left on the clock before the dry cleaners opened, I bought some apples, a sweet potato, some humous (which I am pretty sure is just CHEESE and chickpeas here), a Perrier, and a yogurt.
While sipping my Perrier, I thought about how if I could take a bath in ANYTHING, it would be Perrier. That would be awesome. These kinds of revelations do NOT happen everyday.
I picked up the dry cleaning, caught a bus just in time (11:07am), and took note of all the great ski attire the people on it were wearing, while I embarrassingly sported a pair of too-big running tights and droopy old lady socks. This observation awoke within me the bloodthirsty covetous shopper that I just recently put to sleep. But since I had no money on me and the US Government holds my purse strings at the moment, I put aside the idea of rummaging sales racks and stared straight ahead.
After seeing Tom off, and making a scientific comparison of the level of snow when he first arrived as opposed to now, I went inside and did some job-hunting, and future dreaming / inner searching researching. This probably will end up being a very profitable afternoon for me, and I just won’t find out for like a month or so. In the meantime, lots of executives are pouring over my resume as I write this, wide-eyed, waiting for that moment they can pick up the phone to hire me for my dream job. Which of course involves daily mountain hikes, all-inclusive pass to a yoga studio and day spa, and a really flexible schedule in which I rarely work and mostly lie in a hammock and tend my organic garden, and run, and bike, and……
Ok, I’m done, I realize this one needs a little tinkering with to get it just right. I also didn’t actually send off a single resume today, so it’s unlikely I will get hired for “Hammock Basker Extraordinaire.”
I also researched how many people are reading my blog everyday and I’m happy to share that there are about 25 everyday. That makes me feel special, considering I didn’t even knew 25 people even knew my name! So, since you’re reading this right now, I want to throw out a personal “THANK YOU” for sticking with me through the thick and the thin.
The last and final research project actually was part of the resume variety. As I was re-writing pages upon pages of my extensive, high-tech, professional and lofty job experience, I realized “Chalet Girl” sounds a bit…iffy. I was looking for other titles for it (Premier Residential Hostess for International Ski Enthusiasts, Alpine Facilities Manager, Gourmet Chef and Toilet Bowl Scrubber, Chalet Preparation Princess) when I stumbled upon articles about other Chalet Girl experiences. These articles were written because of this movie that just came out “Chalet Girl” (which I actually watched when I went to England) and curious minds / fellow researchers wanted to know what this job is really like. Looks to me like all Chalet Girls agree with the Cinderella label, most just came equipped with a better haircut than me.
I’m having a de ja vu right now, random fact, but I felt it was important for you to know. My dad is telling me to write “Personal Assistant” on my resume. I might just do a double title, there is no way I am letting this experience go unrecognized!
Now I am about to do some spy research and see who all of these new neighbors are…actually, scratch that. I am done talking to my neighbors, even if they are a bunch of adorable, harmless little blonde children jumping on the beds in the Chalet next door and choreographing dances to Madonna.
— Emily —
A Job listing for any of you who might be interested in next year