Last night, after watching a French movie and all its bonus materials, I told the couple I live with I was going to go to bed early. "I don't know what it is," I explained, "but lately at the end of the day I'm just freaking exhausted."
"OH MY GOODNESS!!!" they both screamed. "Say that again! Say that again!" Knowing better than to repeat what I assumed had been an accidental swear word or innuendo, I asked what was going on.
"That was such an amazing sentence! You used all the right verbs, and all the right articles, and slang only French people know!" Apparently this perfect sentence called for a celebratory dance that consisted of holding their fists high in the air and prancing around the apartment. You can't take more than two steps without hitting a wall in our apartment, so it was more like spinning around in circles.
When my flat-mates hate my hair, they really hate my hair. And when they think my French is getting rad, they really think it's getting rad. And it's scary to watch.
"Well, like I said," I mumbled, since they were too busy dancing to hear me, "I think I'm going to go to sleep."
Ha, this is awesome.
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