Day 221: Ciao Paris!

Illustration by Fifi Flowers
For my last weekend in Europe in 2011, I wanted to go to take the TGV to Switzerland to reflect on the year, take photos and get drunk - alone. Unfortunately, my winter wino fantasy didn't come to fruition after I estimated the cost of the damages done to my apartment by Katie versus my savings account and realized that I wouldn't be able to afford a Swiss getaway. Tant pis. Well I figured, if I couldn't bring myself to Switzerland than I was going to bring Switzerland to me! Sort of...
Séb had his childhood friends Thibault and Claire passing through town on their way to Germany and we decided to invite them over for an impromptu holiday dinner. In France, I find that throwing together a casual dinner party is so easy. We made a steaming big pot of cinnamon vin chaud, melted pounds of cheese and sliced meats and sausages for raclette (the Swiss part), threw some baguettes on the table, decorated the apartment with red and white candles and I wore my knit snowflake tights. Ho, ho, ho.
As the wine was getting us gradually more toasted (because vin chaud tends to sneak up on you), Séb and I started getting giddy and giggly in the kitchen. A joke between us is that we refer to my cat Charlotte Rose as ma fille (my daughter). Sensitive to the fact that no one else is in on this joke, we talk about my "daughter" in private - or so we think. Well who knew that Thibault had the perfect pitch hearing of a dolphin because he heard our entire ridiculous conversation where I was gushing to Séb that I will soon be with my baby daughter once I'm in New York and per my mother's latest e-mail, she has been sleeping on the hot water heater in the basement. Oh. my. god.
Had I known he'd heard us, I would have clarified that Charlotte Rose is in fact a cat and that I didn't abandon my two year old child in order to follow my dream of moving to Paris while she sleeps curled up on heating appliances in an unfinished basement on Long Island. We remained ignorant to Thibault's warranted judgment the entire night and it wasn't until the following day that he called Séb to thank him for the dinner and worked into the conversation inquiries about my daughter. It took Séb a few minutes to figure out the massive malentendu and explained that Charlotte was a cat. Suffice to say, Thibault and Claire were relieved to learn that I was not a terrible mother, just a flighty animal owner. I swear, it's always something here in Paris. 
It's my last night here before 2012 and I am going to miss Paris, Séb and my friends dearly. Let's hope I get out of here tomorrow without a hitch. Wishful thinking...
A Bientôt Paris!