I am staying with friends who have another house in a town about an hour's drive from here and they've been gone since Thursday, leaving me alone, which I am loving. I've had time to write, listen to "new" music for scene inspiration, walk, and do whatever it is I want to do. My mind is dancing from one scene to another, listening to characters and trying new avenues, new adventures for them. Last year, when I didn't have time to write, I kept myself busy in my down time by thinking of scenes that needed help or outright changes. I thought about them so much that when it's come time to write them down, I keep thinking I've already done so but can't find them anywhere! I've gotten a lot of good laughs at myself out of this experience.
So, Thursday evening I want scrambled eggs and toast for dinner. I put the pan on the burner and turned the knob to light it. Nothing happens. I try another burner. Nothing again. The stove is out of gas. Oh well, there is always the microwave and something else to eat.
Had leftovers, washed up and got ready for bed. The next day, Friday, I keep the fire going in the wood stove used for heating, write, binge watch a bit of Grandchester, write some more, and enjoy my day. I eat salad and cheese and bread for dinner. Wash up and head upstairs to my room. Later, I go into the bathroom for a shower. Brushing my teeth, I turn the shower on and nothing happens. No water. I try the sink, no luck. Mouth full of toothpaste I go down to the kitchen where an hour ago I'd done the washing up, and, no water. Luckily I had a glass of it already poured so was able to rinse my mouth.
Saturday morning I use the last of the butter. What good is bread without butter? I do have a car and can go get some if I really want, but decide not to. My host calls and I tell him about the gas and water, which is still not on. He thinks the water is an outside problem, and turns out he was right, because shortly thereafter I see vans in the street with "Eau" written on them. I spent Saturday afternoon writing and cleaning up the wooden stove area, brought in a bunch of wood from the stack outside while still keeping the fire going at a steady pace. Thought of a bicycle ride, but it started to rain. I wrote some more, watched more Grandchester as I had my lunch, and then decided to take the recycling to the recycling center just outside of the village. For the first time in all the many times I've been to France, I drove, alone, in France. Here I don't mind because it's so calm, full of countryside, and no traffic to speak of. Not too many crazies. By Saturday evening we had water again. A bit brown from all the messing with
it they had to do, but still water. Had a lovely shower and could flush
toilets again! So glad I was the only one home.
How lucky am I? In a small village in the middle of nowhere, or everywhere, I'm taking care of a house. I am writing. With and without water and gas I'm having adventures. I have electricity and heat. Did I mention I am writing? I am in heaven.
|View from my window|
|Leftovers from this!|
|View the other way...|
|Flocks of sheep in fields that surround this village...|
|Lone flower in the garden|