Bonjour from sunny St Cyr-sur-Mer. I am unable to post photos today (more about that, below), and so will get right to today's useful French word: le bon sens. I'll use the definition as the title to the following story…
COMMON SENSE
I am typing this post on my tablet, which is propped up on a stack of bright checkered dish towels here on our dining room table. My desk is unavailable, there being a painter in my office, aka, our bedroom. For an office-bedroom the space is surprisingly zen–in case your mind was conjuring up some sort of feng-shui disaster. No, this week's disaster took place elsewhere….
It was a quiet disaster, as disasters go, and quite a smelly one. I first caught whiff of it as our friends were leaving, after an overnight stay….
Standing beside the couch, Philippe, Laurence and 10-year-old Paul-Louis were saying goodbye when a hair-curling odor rose amongst us. As happens in these delicate situations, everyone pretended the offensive (gas? stench? ) didn't exist. And for once I didn't explain things away….
Waving goodbye to our old friends, who disappeared down the gravel driveway, I began working sporadically in the garden, punctuating each burst of effort with a short pause on the couch, located just beyond the front door (propped open before a great blue sky). I love sitting there, facing the Mediterranean pines on the hill between here and Bandol. The forest view is framed by vines hanging from the pergola over our front porch. Smokey is in the frame too, peacefully dozing–or looking longingly toward the woman who just sat down on the couch.
But each time I rested, that Saturday morning, I became aware of a sickening scent. Why is it that when guests come over our brand new septic tank acts up? I thought I'd solved the mystery, when I remembered how I always cleaned the toilets just before visitors arrive. It seems the action of plunging the brush into the toilet bowl has some sort of reflux effect. So I've learned not to pump the brush. Just scour, then flush.
Saturday continued with many advancements in the garden, each followed by a stinky couch break, and yet it never occurred to me the odor could be coming from anywhere but the toilet, in the next room (it also never occurred to me to take my intermittent breaks in another room, which proves I'm slow).
By dinnertime I swore I wouldn't have one more snack on the couch beside the reeking powder room! Anyways, I was beginning to feel nauseous.
When Jean-Marc returned from work late Saturday night, he noticed the stench right away.
"It's the fosse septique," I informed him, before tucking myself into bed, feeling ill by now.
A little while later my husband came into the room. "It wasn't the septic tank, and the odor was not coming from the toilet. It was coming from beneath the couch! I have found the mouse that ate our rubber kitchen pipe!"
Nausea turned to horror as I pictured a pair of legs dangling in front of the skirtless couch, inches away from A ROTTING RAT! All those breaks I'd taken, right over a dead rodent!
"It wasn't a rat. It was a big mulot," Jean-Marc said, playing things down as he does, but I could already picture its wirey tail, its wide open eyes… and its little mouth slowly sucking one last breath (did I feel it on my ankle? tickling my skin?).
In the end, the horror shifted to pity, at the image of a dying creature–all alone but for an audience of zombie dust bunnies. Even Smokey, in his bed–eye-level with the doomed creature–didn't react.
There is no way to sum up this story. But it made me realize a few things, one being the value of common sense. Next time I'll do as Jean-Marc did, and instead of jumping to conclusions, use my God-given senses to get to the bottom of the problem –sniff around a little, and dare to look under the couch!
Amicalement,
Kristi
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Sound file? Let me know if you find one at the end of this post… And tell me what it said, in the comments.
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The sound link worked on my PC laptop, but it didn’t work on my iPad.
Have I missed some announcement? When did the – still amusing – musings on French life cease to include at least a smattering of French vocabulary? ‘French-words-once-in-a-blue-moon’ now a more apt title?
Dear Kristi,
Oh to take a disconcerting event and turn it into an entertaining, keep the reader on the edge of the seat story is a gift indeed…and a refreshing way to look at life. The imagery and laughs just make it even better! For those of us who live on the edge of the woods in our little corner of the world, dealing with the bothersome critters is an all too often challenge, We are working on mulot #4 right now. (Thank you…my new favorite new word for mouse). I shall take a lesson from your story, use le bon sens and try to keep a sense of humor!
Ahh, the pesky mulots. They visit us from time to time, tearing up our attic. I’m glad Jean-Marc discovered the source of the offensive smell. Merci, Kristi, for the reminder to think outside the box when trying to resolve an issue. It’s very timely for me today.
Hi, Terry,
Sometime last year I cut back on the frequency of the blog. The vocabulary section also took a hit…. On the upside, certain changes have given me a renewed enthusiasm for the blog. Lifting some of the pressure to be professional has helped keep this blog going. I will continue to share our life, and the words surrounding it, and I thank you all for reading,/for sharing, and for your positive words. 🙂
Chère Chris,
Thanks, as always 💛.
Katia,
Good luck with those mulots, or whatever subject had it that this message was timely for you.
Funny!!!! 🙂
Perfect photo for today’s story 🙂 Funny! I need to go look up “mulot”. I’m not familiar with that word.
I’ve got a competing mouse story for you. I live in an old house (at least for America) in an old neighborhood. It is not unusually to have occasional vermin problems because of the alley behind the houses, holes in the stone foundation, etc. We are in the process of selling our house and I made sure that my husband made a circle through all the rooms and basement to pick up all the mouse traps we’ve laid over the years. Then a week ago someone was coming to look at the house (brave soul who likes a renovation challenge). I went down the basement stairs to turn on all the lights so they didn’t have to look for switches in the dark and at the bottom step was a large, plump, dead mouse. It couldn’t have been there for more than a day. I made my son come over in the thirty minutes he had between his two jobs and dispose of it. Thank heavens it hadn’t reached the stinky stage yet. Hope I find no more before the week is over or before this couple makes a decision at the end of the week. Hope I don’t pack any and transport them to the new, old house.
Somehow my own souris story just didn’t seem as funny to me as yours did.
It’s a fine “nose-distinction” one uses to discover the source of such an odor…having had a few mice come into the house, get trapped in a trash can or electrified behind wall panels…I have finally figured it out and realize that it will EVENTUALLY subside! UGH!
You gave a poetic slant to an otherwise ordinary story, as always!
The sound bite for le bon sens displayed, labeled as an “enclosure”, and said “sers-toi de bon sens” or somethng to that effect.
Loved the story! I’m surprised the smell didn’t “surface” before these folks were leaving.
Thank you as always for being willing to share these moments – they happen to us all but are not often shared.
I didn’t have the “enclosure” button in the browser I first used to read your blog, but I clicked on the “mon enregistrement #8.m4a” notation and it played your sound file. I was glad I did–wasn’t sure if the “s” at the end of sens was pronounced so now I know! Just thought I’d mention that we had 20 inches of snow over the weekend. I’d love to look out your open door on a sunny Mediterranean vista!
Love this tale, Kristi! Reminds me of a parallel adventure years ago — in my bedroom in a former home, just such a stench began to ripen the air. We searched every corner; nothing to be found apart from dust bunnies and stashed cat-toys. The latter should’ve given me a clue, but the mystery continued to ripen, and while awaiting an expert, I slept on the couch, dashing into my room as needed to grab this and that for work clothes. That’s how the truth came to light: at the bottom of my lingerie drawer, nestled among the silky things, lay a tiny dead brown fieldmouse, lovingly deposited by one of my cats when the drawer was ajar days before.
Oh là là, enjoying your story, Kitty, as well as the other accounts, above! And thank you to those who wrote in about the sound file. So helpful.
I am so glad that you felt such sadness for the mouse’s demise. Thank you. Joan Miller
Our dear Kristi,
What a wonderful story today(as always!)and Kristi,truly one of your very best!
You once again give us inspiration to find the humor in our every day lives!
Oh! How we need a more panglossian world!
Not only with regards to the sewer smell(ah,yes,the stinky elephant in the room);but also as Joan pointed out, your compassion for the poor dead rat.Lowliest of creatures yet still a living being whose time it was to die.
Gifted writer that you are, in so many ways you touch our hearts.
THANK YOU!
Love
Natalia
XO
I could not hear it on my iPhone, but did hear it on my laptop, the sound file. Seemed like, le bon sens: Sers-toi est un bon sens. That is, I did not make sense of the sentence ! Make use of your common sense?
I hope you type it out in the next edition. This one has such strange format in the article, the paragraph breaks not visible at all, text run together.
I could not hear the sound on my computer. C’est domage.
This formatting is very strange-like the olden, but it still worked. I have some funny mouse stories, but I am too tried to write them.
Kathleen
Dear Kristi, I loved your story and its closing with using our God-given sense. How many times our difficulties both large and small could be more easily solved in that way! Very fun story and so sorry that you became ill. God bless you and yours, Claudia-Marie
Mulot, fosse septique, le bon sens — all good new words in today’s “smattering” that I didn’t know.
Dear Kristi, I also loved your story. It brings back memories of houses gone by. And, now I know that a city mouse is souri, and a country mouse is mulot. Love it!
Dear Kristi,
I do hope that you were feeling better by the next morning following the demise of the mulot under your couch! The photo of Smokey adds just the right amount of comic relief to your story. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your experiences through FWAD. Best wishes.
Depression is a very serious illness. It can not be cured by attempting to encourage someone or find the right words. It depends on what type of depression it is. This requires a proper diagnosis i.e. Some depressions are situational , some due to a recent event , some re-current one lasting more than 6 months require different treatments. I encourage you to do some research about it and find out if there is a psychologist near you who could help diagnose properly and then suggest appropriate treatment. It is very difficult to live with this illness and it is also very hard on your loved ones. I am sorry for your pain. I send healing light to you both
Aie! Je vais réserver d’autres commentaires.
Souris (eek!)