In France, you can say Bonne Année throughout January. In fact, you should. The first time you see someone after the new year should include a bonne année, as well as a bonjour. You wish them a good start to the year, as well as a good year, overall.
Therefore, although it’s January 15, it’s not too late to wish you bonne année, and I do. I wish you a very good one, indeed. The beginning of 2018 kind of mocked me. I was cheerfully determined to put last year behind me with the months of tendonitis, the exams and PT to deal with, the exhaustion from busyness, and the bone-wearying patience required to put up with construction drama, delays, and (shudder) lawsuits.
Well, I was done with 2017. And then right before we rang in the new year, I started to feel poorly. Tired with heavy lungs. I went to SOS Medecins on January 1st and got antibiotics for asthmatic bronchitis. Then, as I was starting to feel well enough to get out around, I came down with a second infection that sent me straight back to bed. Here I am two weeks later and still feeling poorly. Apparently it’s not uncommon this season to be down with illness for weeks at a time.
My husband spent his two-week Christmas break building floors on either side of the new stairs so people won’t fall to their deaths.
On this side, he needed to be creative. Because the upstairs is not done, this floor could not be fixed in place. He needed to create floorboards that were secure enough to hold the weight of a man (as a matter of fact, it’s solid enough to hold up to a ton), but that could also be removed when necessary in order to pass material up to the second floor, such as sheetrock. He designed it so the floorboard and all those planks can be removed.
Here’s the other side, which also had a dangerous hole. This side is fixed in place and is missing the parquet and a decorative sliver to cover that little hole there. Now I feel secure going up and down stairs.
He’s clever, isn’t he?
I hosted a baby shower luncheon for my friend on Friday, all while feeling lousy. I’m glad I did, though, because she deserves some pampering. And she was sick enough to crack a rib from coughing so close to delivery, so clearly I have nothing to complain about.
And I was intending to go to the Yves Saint Laurent museum this week with some other English-speaking moms (my resolution this year is to enjoy Paris more and go to museums once a month), but since the doctor said I should expect another two weeks of illness, I think I’ll just lie low.
And continue to send out bonnes années from my bed.