Sunshine and merde

Gentle readers, it is springtime in Paris once again - the flowers are blooming, the leaves are sprouting, and I think it's entirely possible that my eyelashes have started to grow back after the whole black eye debacle (The eyes have it. Well, they used to...).  Oh, all right - I might just be imagining the whole eyelash-growth thing, but springtime is definitely here.  Yesterday it was sunny and about 23 Celcius, and it's predicted to be like that most of this week.

So, will Miss K be gallivanting around the city like a frisky little spring lamb?  Sadly, no - I just found out that I will have to leave my lovely apartment in a couple of months and find a new place to live,  which will doubtless be an arduous and time-consuming process.  Merde!  On the bright side, if I have to go live in a cardboard box under the Pont Neuf, the weather will be much nicer, but let's hope for better, shall we?  So if any of y'all know of a rat-infested broom closet that might be available for rent somewhere in Paris around the 1st of June, do let me know...

The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

I got an email today from one of my readers - it went like this:

When you say "I'll tell you tomorrow..." on a Thursday and then wait until the following Monday, what are your loyal readers supposed to assume?

A) Four-day hangover?

B) Rugged Irishman?

C) All relevant photos involve you wearing (exposed) green unmentionables?

D) All of the above?

Well, gentle readers, that's an excellent point, and my apologies for the delay.  Sadly, it had nothing to do with A), B) or C), far less D)!  I only wish any of those things had been the reason... 

St Paddy's evening on Thursday was good fun, but Friday night turned out to be a different story.  I  went to a party on a boat on the Seine, which was also good fun, right up until the end.  Unfortunately, when I was about to leave, I attempted a dazzlingly complicated feat of physical coordination: walking up the stairs and putting on my coat at the same time.  Yeah, this might be easy for you, but Miss K is well-known to be the clumsiest person in the world - especially on a moving surface. Even moored, the boat was bobbing up and down in the river, and the wash from a passing bateau-mouche hit our boat just as I was putting my arms in the sleeves of my coat, and that's when I tripped up the stairs.   And how did I break my fall, you ask?  Well, with my face, of course.

More specifically, I broke the fall with my right eye.  Now, Miss K is ever an optimist, and I am extremely grateful to have not broken my teeth or my nose, but not only do I have one hell of a black eye, the impact ripped off most of the lashes on that eye as well - aieee!!!  Never mind the cuts and bruising, never mind that I woke up on Saturday with blood all over my pillowcase and my eye puffed up like a blowfish, never mind that it hurt like the freakin' bejaysus - I don't care about any of that.  What I care about is this: my eye is bald!  I have a bald eyeball!  I'm eye-bald!  Wahhh!!!

And I can prove it - see below for before and after photos of my poor eye...

Before:  Not too shabby, right?  Nice colour, decent lashes, perfectly presentable.

After:  Saturday morning.  Eye-bald!

After:  Today. Still no lashes, just applied a little eyeliner -verrry carefully!  Notice how the bruises are turning neon-green on the left?  Yeah, that's going to be sexy...