Waking up at 4 am is usually a bummer. Not this morning. Even the freakish howling of birds well before sunrise couldn't get me down. I am in the South of France on Façonnable's dime, I have new jeans, and my brain is pumping creativity.
I've been studying the history of fashion and the fashion industry (I'm here to create patterns for swim trunks). I've been brushing up on my French. I've been drawing, jogging, and watching French cartoons.
I'm staying at the HI Hotel which is a modern, concept hotel. My room is better as a concept then a place to work, rest, and iron shirts. My toilet is 5 feet up a spinal staircase (and surrounded by purple plexi-glass) and my shower is also on a riser, more akin to a go-go boy terrarium than a hotel shower. I wouldn't mind if Keith was here to watch. What I do mind is scaling three slippery steps as I descend, since the glass door doesn't contain the water very well and the staircase becomes more of a fountain feature than a safety feature. Am I getting old if I wish there were a handrail? Yikes. I think I'm getting old.