Searching for a Book to read.

My biggest weakness is book buying. Since I have such a small apartment here in Paris, and one which I have to somehow stuff Dick into at the end of the week, I'm trying to only buy books I'm really going to read. I ran out of good books to read and was stuck with one that had been left in the apartment, a silly romance. I finished it however, and began to look for another one to read.  By the day before yesterday I was desperate. I read an article in French, but that is so slooooooooow going.  My question was, what now?  Should I buy another one or not. Throw caution to the winds. I made up my mind to trek over to St Paul where the Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore is located.


Let me explain something. I am the laziest person in the world. I exercise when I am at home, but I have to leave right away in the morning or I will never do it. I can think of a hundred excuses: the dog needs to be fed, the flowers need to be watered, the dishes need to go into the dishwasher, the..........excuses, excuses until it is too late. Or I JUST FORGET. So I will go to bed with my gym clothes on so I don't have to get dressed and use that as an excuse not to go.


And here, it is now very cold. Not as cold as Wisconsin, but as I keep saying I never stick my nose out when it's cold. NO! I go from my house door into the garage and into my car. Unless it is 45 degrees Fahrenheit I do not go outside.


But it's in the 20s  here and I am tramping off to French class. I worked it out. I walk  about one mile a  day going back and forth to class. I go up and down  at least 100 steps between the school, the apartment and the metro. So I feel I am getting my exercise, because I am walking in the cold. (I'm feeling sorry for myself now.)


Anyway I dressed in all my warm clothes again and dragged myself to the metro and then walked another half mile to the bookstore and--- guess what---it was closed. I looked at the opening hours. 10-19 heures or 10am to 7pm. I looked at my watch and it was 5:25pm. I took a deep sigh and then I saw a tiny note, "back at 5:30." Now it was a sigh of relief. Okay I can wait five minutes so I walked down the street and---voila--- found a store that sold things from Louisiana. Wow, I had to tell Dick, because I could see crackers through the window. He loves crackers with just about anything. Then back to the bookstore and it's after 5:30. Still no one. Well I could go home. No. I will never get the urge to come again. So go somewhere,  a cafe,  and drink a glass of wine.


I walked a  ways and found this little hole in the wall called Le Cafe Petit St. Paul. I went in and looked around. It was pretty scrubby, but there was a family with three children having hot chocolate. So I sat down and ordered a glass of white wine.  Then I noticed that only grubby old men leaning against the bar were drinking wine. When I say grubby, I mean straggly hair on their faces, old  stocking hats down over their heads, dirty jackets and pants  five sizes too big. I probably gave them money in a cup before I got there.


So I acted as if I were queen of France and tried to drink my wine with a modicum of dignity. Finally at 6:15 I returned to the Red Wheelbarrow and the lady was standing on a ladder stacking the books. Naturally, I bought four books.


On the way home, I almost missed seeing my metro entrance, because a Merry-go-round had been set up since I arrived. And children were riding it. In this cold  weather. Okay, it's Paris.