lundi, octobre 24, 2005

Desolé means "Sorry."

Dear Wife acheived something very difficult today. She and the owner of our current apartment had been talking for a little while this morning, and mainly in French. Now that's difficult enough in my book, by Dear Wife did a lot better than mere conversation. She made a joke.


And the landlady laughed hysterically.

They were discussing the Wi-Fi ("wee-fee" remember, as it is pronounced here), and we mentioned the compelling network name that had been set up for her service, "txavier." This is the name we see in our Airport (wee-fee) status bar as the network we are logged onto. This network works just as any wireless network at home, as far as we can tell, emanating from a little box plugged into the modified cable outlet. We assumed this name, "txavier," came from the efficient and nice guy who came to install the wireless router for the Noos company: we figured maybe his name is Thomas Xavier, or something. But when we brought this up to our landlady, she laughed and said, "Oh no, it was the name of my ex-husband."

Oh, we said (I was sorta in on the conversation), and there was a pause.

Then Dear Wife said, "Désolé pour la souvenir." ("Sorry for the souvenir"--get it??)

And the landlady squealed with laughter, literally doubling over.

Dear Wife would hardly fashion herself a big joker, even in her native language. But here she was, cracking this lady up. Brava!

Here is the scene of yesterday's early morning contretemps. The Moose is on the right, the blue mystery nightclub is on the left. They have just removed the tarps from the scaffolding next door, allowing a better view of the place than was to be had Sunday morning.

I really should have been in church.

Am I ever sore. My neck is especially unhappy. A modest shiner seems to be coming on, though our landlady tactfully avoided asking any questions. Perhaps people guess it's a domestic problem.