Sometimes I feel floaty
I have these moments of disassociation. I stand there and can’t believe where I am (south west of France) , how I got here (years of planning and a terrifying leap.)
I look and see patterns.
I see trajectories.
And for the life of me I just don’t see the south west of France on my trajectory 5 years ago, yet here I am.
What a bend to an otherwise boring course of life.
I have felt that floaty thing recently, but these are perturbations. Ripples in an otherwise still pond.
When we came here on our first scouting trip we went to this thing called a “brico”… A hardware store…
Brico is short for bricolage.
I needed to absorb a part of what my future life would look like. I needed to stand there and soak it in, the bizzarro electrics and the dizzying array of plumbing.
So many new things, different ways of doing things, and all very strange words for everything.
I do this absorbing thing still. I call it situational awareness. I learned this at work managing projects in foreign places like Orlando Florida. Every time I go to the hardware store, and often at the grocery store (LeClerc, not Grand Frais,) I take in a little more. Where is the glue, where are the torches, why don’t they have socket drivers, that sort of thing.
Yesterday was an interesting day
I was on the way to my nearest Brico, Tridome, to collect some wall putty to fix some holes, and get a proper spatula that wasn’t all rusty. Rusty spatulas leave rust stains that soak through wet paint, that’s bad.
I decided to take the back road… you know the one if you live here, every hill you crest reveals a stunning vista, sweeping views of forests and vineyards, churches and chateaus.
I still giggle when I bound over a hill and see something stunning, like billowing clouds, dark rain sky, green fields and charming French villages and I tell you that yesterday was no exception.
Then the urea warning came on in the Hyundai
And I wasn’t scared.
We own a diesel Hyundai, and apparently one thing a diesel craves from time to time is urea.
Urea occurs in urine… a small percentage. like 2-4%.
The urea that you put in your diesel is much more concentrated, like 32.5%.
Your diesel sprays it into the exhaust to convert the NO2 into N and H20. Fascinating, huh?
I was pretty sure Tridome did not have my needed dose of concentrated exhaust pee, but there is a LeClerc just around the rond-point and I know for a fact that not only do they have it, I know where in the store it is, and it isn’t even the LeClerc we usually shop at.
Now mind you, I paint a pretty picture when I am gussied up for home improvement. Generally, the French hold themselves to a high standard in terms of their appearance. Appearance wise, I was scraping the ground lower than a pair of truck nuts on a Ford F150.
I am in the middle of home refurb when the call for spackle arises. I do not stop, shower, change into my finery… No.
I am in my work shoes, the tennis shoes that are too worn for public consumption. Stained with paint, concrete and who knows what yard materials.
I am wearing shorts, it is raining, and it is like 13C outside (that’s 55 in freedom units.)
And I am in my least offensive Salt Life long sleeve Tee shirt.
No mind to the fact that ‘Murica is front and center on the world stage. That people offer condolences and ask me why? How could this have happened…
So there I am, I am at 99% ‘Murican potential, carrying a 10 liter jug (2.6 gallons in freedom units) of concentrated diesel pee.
I am looking for a funnel, something I expect to see with the automotive fluid section of the grocery store back in ‘Murica, but I have actually had to print my own funnels on my 3D printer to get what I want. I am concerned that I will have to make a long neck funnel to get the “good stuff” into the Hyundai…
Just then I spy a corrugated goose neck filler spout with the 10 liter jug of diesel pee… hidden behind a label. collapsible and tucked into an indentation in the jug. I am happy.
I go to the self check out, the attendant wants to tell me that it is bank card only, which I am prepared for and offer a smile and a “oui” in return.
I buy the ultra pee, glug glug glug it into the thirsty Hyundai, and make my way home.
I play some Die Antwoord on the stereo, something my wife won’t tolerate, and using the power of my newly acquired driver’s license, make my way home.
And I just slotted into life.
That floaty feeling that has been banging around in my skull and my chest sort of dematerialized. I know it will be back, but these little moments help.
I guess home is where the anchor drops after all.
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