(Side note: Upon hearing the name of his new teacher, one of my students promptly dubbed her Miss Cake. As French people can be a bit sensitive about the disclosure of their personal information on the interwebs, I shall henceforth refer to her as such.)
Poor Miss Cake missed her connection in Dallas. We didn't know that when we (Julia, Chrissie and I) showed up at the airport to pick her up. We watched the 7:40 from Dallas empty out-- no Cake. Then we watched the 7:40 from Delta empty out-- and as Louis XVI noted in his hunting journal on July 14, 1789-- rien. * (Yeah, I'm classin' this blog up.)
Turns out she'd left messages on my home phone, the only problem being that I wasn't home but out at O'Charley's toasting my last remaining moments of living alone. She arrived promptly the next morning, and we were both probably better off for having another night to sleep in a bed.
* In this footnote, my conscience obliges me to redeem poor ol' Louis.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.