Today is our last full day in Paris. The time has gone by too fast.
But, guys… Saturday? Madness. The majority of the Paris rioters usually convene around the Champs-Élysées, which is in the eighth arrondissement. Our hotel is also in the eighth arrondissement. I had no idea the extent of these riots. I mean, look at this:
I was marginally worried that they would decide to come into the hotel and start rioting, but the staff told us not to worry about that, that they wouldn’t. And the staff didn’t seem to be too worried about it, so I tried to put it out of my mind and just enjoy the hotel.
I also had a facial, which was lovely and my skin looked great afterward, but–I was also bankrupt afterward. Ah, well. It kept my mind off being possibly dragged from the hotel by rioters and beaten to death in the streets!
On Sunday everything was calm again. The streets were clean and people were out strolling to bakeries and such. Kinda like nothing had ever happened, which was a complete mindfuck. But midday, I decided to go out and re-join the city, too.
Yesterday, we went to the Christmas market in Tuileries Garden and the catacombs. I also found a New Year’s Eve dress, and I can’t wait to tell everyone on New Year’s Eve that my dress is from Paris. I mean… It’s from Zara, but Zara in Paris. Gonna be pretty insufferable, I must warn you.
Today I went out in search of a home decor item that I could bring back and look at every day (and also tell all my visitors that it’s Parisian), and I found it. I’ll show it to you later after I’ve had a chance to take some really good pictures of it!
Alright–I’ve only got about 18 hours left to enjoy the best city in the world.
I’m redecorating. I’m going for the look of a five-star luxury modern African hotel suite. Now… I haven’t exactly nailed down my vision one-hundred percent, nor am I one-hundred percent sure of what I’m talking about, but I’m getting there. Have you heard of glamping? It’s kinda how I would envision glamping in Johannesburg… But in my house… In Atlanta.
Like this vase? It has to be in a luxury Johannesburg hotel, am I right? Probably. I got this one from Target, though, if you’re wondering. Same for the artificial leaves, but I can’t find those to link.
Right now I’m trying to find a breathtaking and unique rug, but it hasn’t happened yet. There are a lot of rugs out there, and I’ve worn myself out looking for one. I don’t want to look at another rug for at least a week. Who says it all has to be done at once, ya know? The selective perfectionist in me really wants it done in time for Thanksgiving, but the realist in me knows that it’s impossible. The lazy lump in me is happy to let the realist take over for now.
Where’s your favorite place to shop for home decor and furniture?
Do you know how much a toilet costs? No–a good toilet. A lot more than you’d expect to pay for something you poop in, let me tell you. My feeling is that the only toilet worth five hundred dollars is a toilet that I don’t have to clean–a self-cleaning toilet, if you will. But according to the folks at Home Depot, “that kind of toilet doesn’t exist,” and according to Lowe’s, “You’re probably thinking of a housekeeper, girl.” But am I? I’ve had a lot of wine, but I think I still know the difference between a self-cleaning toilet and a housekeeper. One of those options a housekeeper doesn’t have to clean. Also–me. I don’t have to clean it either.
Anyway. There is such a thing as a self-cleaning toilet, but it costs more than $500, and I don’t really trust that it’s self-cleaning. Like…am I really not going to clean my toilet? Ever? That sounds like a set-up.
You know how you’re twelve and you’re lounging in the backyard daydreaming of all the ways being an adult would be amazing? Then twenty years later you actually become an adult, and you spend a good portion of your weekly paycheck on silk pillowcases to prevent crow’s feet AND come to the realization that the rest of your paycheck will have to eventually go a self-cleaning toilet that you will still have to clean?
No one prepped me for this part of adulthood.
Also, it’s been more than two years and I still don’t know all the French words. WTF.