I am doing a tedious yet necessary sort through archived stuff (with the firm intention of chucking most of it. So far, my success rate is underwhelming: not enough chucking). I am in some disbelief about how bits of my life can be summed up or conjured by scribbled notes, or rediscovered objects like a napperon* I begged my mother to give me before moving here. I am trying not to get too distracted because I have a lot to get through, but the following things have stood out so far:
‘Thursday/Friday: max 2 buckets of water’ (note to myself on a random piece of paper)
‘You look like Red Riding Hood’ (my friend Megan’s scribbled assessment of my outfit during a German Expressionism class)
‘Sabine, can I see you briefly in my office this Thursday?’ (one of my favourite lecturers – because the man would start talking and end up so far away from his original point it always blew your mind in a slightly irritating way.)
I would kill to remember what the buckets of water were for, what I was wearing to German Expressionism class, and what that damn meeting was about.
On an unrelated note, one of my favourite childhood toys (‘Petit Agneau’ – that’s ‘Little Lamb’ en anglais) is ratty and gross and needs to ‘move on’ – that is killing me too. But he’s lost his nose and he is a shadow of his former white and fluffy glory. I’m this close to flying the French flag on my desk at half mast.
*Too lazy to look it up before – but my curiosity got to me. In the end I like the word ‘napperon’ better than its English equivalent so I’m leaving it in there. Now you know everything.