Phone call.

Quick. You're getting a veritable barrage this weekend. However, I'm not posting this one on facebook, so only the devoted will find this one. Maybe.

I have a funny I want to share that took place just a few minutes ago. I just walked in the house, having gone of into the cité to buy a gâteau and browse a bouquinistes or deux. My mom stopped me and declared that she had one good thing to share with me and one bad thing. The first referred to a phone call that I made to my family in Amory. Calls to landlines in the US are free on my French family's line. Momma V started by saying that my call to the US had been free. "However," she added (in French, so not really), "this other number that you called was not free."

It was at this moment that I remembered the events that transpired leading up to my phone call back home. My first attempt lacked the first two zeroes that initiate a call outside of the country. Instead, the call was routed to a line inside the country. I immediately realized my mistake in two different ways: 1) the woman on the other end of line was speaking French; 2) there was wasn't much speaking, due to the fact that she was very excité to talk to me (those of you using Google Translator will want to refer to the second meaning of that word).

So that call lasted about thirty seconds, which was just enough time for the call to be put through and for me to realize my mistake, laugh about it, and hang up. However, I had forgotten about any charges that may have been applied, which brings me back to the beginning of the story. "I can pay for the charges," I told her, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. "No, no," she responded, "it wasn't that much." I hope not, I thought. Otherwise I didn't get my money's worth.

I then decided to try and explain what happened in order to assert that I was a moron instead of a pervert. However, my vocabulaire was somewhat lacking in nuance to explain my situation delicately. I explained that I had punched in the numbers wrong and that I had been directed to a woman. She didn't seem to understand the emphasis I was putting on woman, accompanied by that insider's look of mutual understanding. She just stared at me. So I followed up with what I thought at the time meant, "a woman you call when one is feeling lonely." Of course, in a tribute to Seinfeld (shoutout to Neil) that apparently even the French understand, I said "when one is alone."

At this my host mom burst out into hysterical laughter.

Once again, I find the we are all not that different.