Sorry I'm not sorrier

I went to see Dans Paris this afternoon at the IFC Center with a friend from study abroad, was mystified and Franny and Zooey-fied (chicken soup, dead sibs, telephones), ate gelato, came home. Flopped into bed, drank a glass of water, and turned on the telly. Of course, Le Divorce is on again. I'm not enjoying it this time either, but of course, it's...

One of those coincidences. This afternoon as I poked around Flight 001, I saw a totally strange thing - a tin of Paris-themed stamps. Who would want such a thing? What would you use it for? It seemed somehow though that if I bought it, it would be an acknowledgement that I notice the coincidences. That I've understood that I have to move to Paris. Oui?

Now I feel disgusting and bloated. Not helped by having lived an entire day vicariously by watching the movie, which seemingly took place in real time. Going out tonight will be three days in a row. I'm not looking forward to it.