French is over. Celebrated by spending the day in bed with Val Kilmer

 After a six-month haul, French is finally over, at least somewhat successfully. The box now has a checkmark, anyway. The test was rough and long, but it didn’t seem as long as it really was. Unfortunately for me, I came down with some kind of death virus about a day before and I felt absolutely miserable. I went in masked but I sounded so horrible during the first part that the testers insisted I finish the test remotely, which I completely understood.

Comprehension has always been my biggest problem and adjusting to new people’s speech patters can take awhile. Meaning, a lot longer than the test itself. I absolutely could not understand what the person was saying. There’s a portion in the test where you ask questions and then report the answers and I literally couldn’t not make out anything for one of the responses. Had I felt better, I could have asked and re-asked for clarification, etc., but I just wasn’t up to it.

In the end, I got the score I needed to proceed without additional paperwork. I feel like some of the grade was a courtesy, but I don’t care. I’m glad it’s over but honestly, I’m still too sick to muster up any emotion about it, including relief.

Since I haven’t bothered testing for Covid and today’s Covid resembles a cold, I could have Covid. Apparently it’s going around the group of new hires and I did go to their “flag day” celebration. (And at the time, I did not know Covid was going around their class…) But no regrets – I met a bunch of new colleagues who are just excited to be heading out to their posts as I am to mine.

But five or six days later,  I feel absolutely miserable. It’s legitimately acting like my colds usually do, so I’m going with that, although I am masking up just in case. Masking up when I go out, that is. Which hasn’t been since the test.

Yesterday, I spend a blissful day in bed with Val Kilmer. I’d gone to the library last weekend – it’s a block away! – and snagged “I’m Your Huckleberry,” which is one of Wendy’s favorite quotes from Wyatt Earp. I know “Huckleberry” more from a Toby Keith/Scotty Emerick tune, but as an Iceman fan, I checked it out.

And it was lovely read. Never knew Kilmer had a poet’s soul. I spent the entire day moving from the bed, the sofa and the comfy chair curled up with the book.

Today, I’m feeling marginally better but as the remains of Debby Downer are hitting us, I’m planning on laying low for a bit.

Originally, I’d hoped to travel out of town this weekend but right now I am really glad to have not sprung for a ticket. It’s nice to be home. And it’s really nice to not be studying French anymore.