Risky Business

My husband should know by now that anything is game.

After all, his wife is blogging from France and she needs content, baby, content!

So far, most of the posts on this blog involve describing French medieval towns with winding roads and cobblestone paths. Oh, and drinking rose wine. THAT gets old, right?

Here’s something different, then. Read on, but be prepared for some graphic images  you may want to forget.

Yesterday morning we relaxed in the apartment. By relax, I mean that I got dressed and David stayed in his underwear. I’m hoping he just forgot to get dressed, but hey, it’s vacation, right?

You might want to picture Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Without the top-gun physique and dance moves. Or then again, you could just keep reading without the visuals.

Bistro 21, the onsite restaurant here at the hotel in Mougins, was closed for lunch on Tuesday. We decided to actually COOK lunch in our teeny tiny kitchen. And by “we” I actually mean “my husband.” You know, because I like accuracy and all.

So David cooked up some gnocci with tomato-basil sauce (purchased from a local grocery store that is within walking distance of the hotel). And I sat down to eat.

Just as I was taking my first bite of gnocci, we hear a key in the door to our room. The cleaning service was here!

David actually rushed around the corner TOWARD THE FRONT DOOR yelling “NOOOO” and ran smack into the cleaning lady! While I wasn’t there at the time (I was still eating my gnocci, but smiling to myself), I believe she averted her eyes and backed out of the door very quickly. Pardon!

David returned to the table, a bit shook up. Why do they just come in without knocking? He asked. 

Perhaps because they expect people to be dressed by noon, I answered.

We may not get the apartment cleaned for the rest of the week. But that’s okay. ‘Cause we’re really really neat people. I’m just sayin’….