No language is safe

So I just heard the entirety of a conversation between the Italian and his AMERICAN, ENGLISH-SPEAKING friend. I am just going to hope that he wasn't listening last night to Haley and I talking about him because that might make things a little awkward. I don't think he did though because we had a pretty normal conversation in the kitchen this morning; as normal as a conversation can be with a strange person that's just moved into your immediate area. Also the kitchen is so miniscule that if there are ever two people there, you're automatically in the other person's personal space. Since then, I've just been kind of waiting until I hear him retreat back into his room before I go make my tea or whatever. Speaking of hot beverages, I made hot chocolate today with my shelf-milk and the Italian's cocoa powder (which is why I waited until he was definitely out for the day) and it tasted just like normal hot chocolate. I'm still too afraid to just drink it aloe though so I'm going out tomorrow to buy my own cocoa powder. And more shelf-milk. I had no idea we had the same thing in the US; I thought it was just a weird French thing that they someone alter their milk such that they can keep it on the shelf for nearly six months before it goes bad! When you think about it, it's unbelievably convenient and strangely conforms to the American buy in bulk policy because they often sell the milk in six one-liter cartons strapped together.

In other news, today before French class, the professor pulled me aside and told me that she had corrected the homework and that I had done an excellent job. I just started at her perplexed because all we had handed in was just a grammar exercise that I hadn’t really thought of as important so I’d forgotten all about it. My mind was already on the writing assignment due today so when I responded ‘homework?’ she told me that my example sentences were very clear and precise and that I expressed myself very well. I stood there dumbfounded, not accustomed to receiving praise from a French professor (god I hope She never reads this because the jabs are just endless) and not knowing what to say until I finally thanked her and she told me to keep up the good work. Then she had me read my sentences to the class and I felt like a model student. So all in all pretty good day for me, academically. It’s about half past twelve and I’ve long since finished my homework for tomorrow and am working on stuff for my lecture Friday. I might go to the BU center early tomorrow because I am really noticing the lack of a paper dictionary. My eyes are getting really tired at night from staring at a computer screen all day and sometimes I really just want to relax on my bed or out somewhere but can’t because I don’t have wireless here. I might have mom bring my little pocket one when she comes in October; that way at least I can do my homework in a café or something.

PS To all who read Baudelaire (in French), I give you credit because what I’m doing can not be called anything other than struggling.