Ce que vous êtes jusqu'à ce week-end?
My calendar may be full of things to do, but instead I shrug and smile; the simple words for a bike ride (randonnée à vélo) and attic sales (vide greniers) nowhere to be found.
Rarely, however, have I found myself so utterly speechless as when Ken and I returned home after a two-day trip to the Perigord and found a bottle of wine (a good bottle!) and note by our front door.
I am sorry that you see my body but I love do the NATURIST at the sun. Please accept my excuses. Your wife is pretty.Our neighbor, two houses away, likes to sunbathe au naturel. I had caught a glimpse or two, but, I swear, I hadn't screamed or stared. I thought I had been quite cool.
Offended? Hell no!
Impressed? You bet!
That our naturist neighbor had felt the need to apologize left me embarrassed.
Alas, no gift can go unacknowledged, and I spent the next two hours agonizing about the proper response. Should we crack open the bottle and raise our glasses to our neighbor, whose name we didn't even know, the next time he bared his soul and bottom? Invite him for an aperitif? Remind him of the importance of sunscreen?
I truly was speechless.
Meanwhile, Ken took charge. He knocked on our neighbor's door, introduced himself, thanked him for the fine wine, and assured him that it was n'est pas nécessaire to apologize.
When he returned with our neighbor's name and bio, I finally relaxed.
Seems like a nice guy. I hope we get to see more of him.