It happened yesterday. It was the perfect storm ~ I was 20 minutes late due to my absent sense of direction, I couldn't understand let alone respond to one thing my French teacher was saying, it was the stress of the move, the loneliness of the holidays, the trauma of the previous year, the realization that no matter where you go, there *you* are, the inability to get a good night's sleep, being an awkward, clumsy American in Europe, the lack of exercise, my loud inner critic - all combined with a generous sprinkle of hormones. My poor unfortunate French teacher. He was so very kind and compassionate. He got me Kleenex and told me to have a sip of water. Believe it or not we actually went on to have a very productive lesson. He is definitely deserving of some baked goods.
Soon I'll tell you about the time I made ricotta cheese and felt like a rock star. I'll also tell you about Pierre. He's a turkey.