Where's my quiche?

After an exhausting hour stroll through the market filled with mad shoppers inspecting fruits and vegetables, sniffing moldy cheese and admiring the modern products on display on the streets of Lyon, I was fed up and needed to go home and eat. I love outdoor markets, but after just getting up with makapiapia still in my eyes, I couldn't deal with the people standing right in the middle of the market way chatting about god knows what while groups of shoppers were trying to make their way through the tiny streets of France. Seriously, it's really simple, the marketplace conduct: Walk at normal speed, not one step every minute and if you see something that you like, move to the side so that you can allow others to walk! Oh, and especially don't, I mean never, ever eat a kebab while power walking, not paying attention to the people in front of you and almost drop lamb, onions and sauce down the front of my shirt. Grr!!

So, after the fun stroll through the market and my nagging about hunger pains and a fervent need for a warm, tasty quiche, SoCo and I headed back to his apartment. We found a quaint boulangerie near his apartment and I ordered a yummy quiche a la jambon. Yes! I had my quiche and I was ready to get back to the apartment to sit on the couch, eat my quiche and do absolutely nothing. Oh, but no, no, no...with about 7 bags of fruits and veggies in our hands, SoCo decided that we had to walk 4 blocks to his car to pick up his soccer ball and badminton rackets because we were going to picnic with friends at Parc Tete d'Or in 2 hours. As SoCo gathered the sports equipment, I snuggled with all the produce on a nearby bench. Finally, we can get back. We gather everything up and walked down the hill toward the apartment.

After four flights of stairs, I was ecstatic to be back in the apartment. I placed the bags on the table, searched for my quiche...searched for my quiche...searched again. Oh, hell no! "Where is my quiche?"

Epilogue: I grudgingly conceded to eat leftover kebab pizza while mourning the loss of my dear quiche after, of course, throwing a fit, pouting and refusing to go to the picnic. Poor SoCo, it was a baffling day for him to watch my mood swings. But, the quiche story became main topic at the picnic as I sat there pretending to understand every word that they uttered in French. Smile, nod and laugh when they laugh...he, he, ha, ha!