Revenue

Paris again. Even a glancing blow (as in, this night and one more) is like coming home. It was noon by the time the shuttle got here. And by "here," I mean way the other (front) side of the cathedral, because it's the 850th anniversary of it and there's all this special stuff (I couldn't tell: a temporary museum? partially a viewing platform?) built all across the parvis in front of it, so the police have the street blocked off and the shuttle had to let me off at the far side with my two bags and backpack, and I had to walk the rest of the way. Through the mobs of (other) tourists. After some lunch (the annual revisit to Le Bistrot du Peintre, over near Bastille (thinking of the lunch Emily Wells and I had there last year, out front--which wouldn't have been a good idea today, since it poured rain for a while), I was mainly getting incoherent with fatigue (which I'll blame for my thinking I'd lost my phone for a couple of hours), so came back and crashed (with only stops for pastry for breakfast--where the outdoor displays were attracting swarms of yellowjackets, which was sort of ethereal) and a bottle of water next door). Better now, but as soon as I get the baggage reorganized (because I'm only in the apartment the one night for the moment), I suspect I'll be crashing again. But it's Paris.