I woke up with my head still steeped in the Japan rental article.
It had to be asked.
So, would you ever get a rental wife? I ask my love in my pre-caffeine, coming down with a cold voice (Think of a mix between Gollum and Eartha Kitt). In other words, delightful.
I get back an eye-roll and obscene amounts of logic. Basically, um...no. This is good. But then again, what person in his right mind would say yes? We discuss the article a bit more and agree that only maybe if closure was needed - apology one was never going to get or getting over a breakup - would the rental thing be OK. As a way to get over and get on but not to live an alternative life with paid actors. Forget the crazy part - it's just not fiscally responsible.
So it's May 1st and in France that means it is a day of rest in celebration of the worker / of the proletarian. The tradition is to faire la grasse matinée = to do the fat morning = to sleep in.
After a big fat morning we decide to head to Nîmes in the early afternoon.
But we stop in Martigues for dejeuner (excellent seafood). We are so charmed by the coastal village that we never make it to Nîmes. Instead, we stroll down winding corridor streets, visit 14th century old churches, watch like kids at the massive ship that moves past the retractable bridge, and stop every so often by doors that look like they open into fairy tales.
I notice a bistro called L'allumeuse d'étoiles (lighter of stars). My love tells me it's a play on words. L'allumeuse also means a woman who is alluring but sexually elusive.
Being May 1st, there are also sellers of bouquets of muguets at every corner. Apparently its a tradition from the time of King Charles IX and now these cute but poisonous plants are given as a sign of good luck and happiness.
Except for me and the girls.
Because whenever I ask for flowers, my love doesn't buy them. He plants them. He has now planted two avocado trees, a lemon tree, a rose bush, about 3 orchids, a bougainvillea and a bunch of plants that I forgot I asked for. I figure I should have flowers in about 5 years or so.
Despite my cold, it's been a splendid, lazy day with my loves. When we get home, I look at my sleeping dog, my love reading, and gaze out the window with fingers wrapped around my cup of lemon and honey and know, even in my pathetic muguet-less state, I have plenty de la chance et la joie dans ma vie.