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Day 54: Sublet....???


Brasseries are closing, traffic is getting lighter, the morning commute is less packed with people breathing in my face, English has become Paris' first language, and finding a boulangerie that is open has become impossible. It's officially summer in Paris. 

The city is getting quieter with each passing week, as everyone is leaving to take their six weeks of vacation which includes me. But unlike most people my vacation is unpaid. Not having paid days off has me needing to sublet my apartment, and the search to get someone normal and reliable has been exhausting. This is the second time that I have been on this side of offering housing, once before when I was living in Brooklyn and sadly things have not gotten any easier. 

I received an e-mail from someone who was coming in from Vienna and needed the place for exactly the amount of time I was offering, liked the pictures and wanted to come by and see it. Fair enough. The other emails I received didn't fit into my ideal timeline or there were animals and/or children involved, so Vienna it was.

Vienna emails me and says he needs to move into the apartment today. Today? I'm still here! He said that he had arrived in Paris earlier than he thought and needs lodging. Becoming a bit desperate because he was the only candidate that fit my criteria, I brainstormed on how I could make this work without leaving myself on the streets.

Phil! Phil had offered me to take the keys to his flat in case I needed it. I declined because I would be out of town during the same time as he and it would be useless if I had his keys while in The US. I called Phil in a frenzy hoping he didn't offer his flat to someone else. He picked up and was already at the airport heading to Chicago and I launched into my story about the guy from Vienna and if I could pretty please grab the keys from him. And he said it was no problem, he didn't offer the apartment to anyone, but there was just one thing. "It's okay, calm down, you just have to get the keys from the person I gave them to," he said. "Okay, it's fine. Who has them? One of your doctoral students who lives like an hour away?" I asked dreading he would say yes. But no, it was worse. "No, Monsieur Flâneur has them." Phil. Of course.

Of course, he has them. I can't slip out of Paris for a little fun in the sun without one last encounter with the increasingly irritating Monsieur Flâneur. 

"What do you mean he has them?!!" I squealed as I could hear the gate agent making boarding announcements through the phone. Poor Phil has to deal with my relationship drama up until his last seconds on French soil. "I didn't know that some pushy and might I add, unorganized guy would be moving into your apartment forcing you out a week before your departure! I didn't have anyone else to give them to!" he said and with good reason. "I thought you were giving them to Blondie after we bumped into her," I added. "I thought about it but she told me she had roaches in her apartment and those creepers travel." Gross.

I reluctantly texted MF to let him know that I would need the keys due to an unexpected turn of events. He responded "C'est sûr" implying that Phil and I were setting him up and it was all a rouse to get us to see each other. Like Phil had that kind of time on his hands. He gets more difficult to speak to each time and shows his lack of concern for me more and more. I can't wrap my head around his rhyme or reason for being so nasty to me, maybe this is who he really was the whole time and I didn't notice. But more importantly, who cares?

Some time away will do me some good but can't think about it until I have someone moved in for the rest of the summer. Vacation mode will officially start once I have someone in the apartment and am flying off into the sunset from Paris to New York.

Maybe I'll find someone else to move in? But who....?

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