One of us is derelict (depending on your fantasies of Paris) 4-13-15

You'll have to decide. I know, I know.   Being Sunday, Deb decides she wants a day at home but that includes a cleanup of the house.  Given the size of the apartment, she tells Warren to get out and do something so as to not be underfoot.  

Warren seizing on the opportunity decides it would be a good thing to go to the book sale at the American Library of Paris.  This is a private lending library that provides English language books, tapes, videos, etc. to the ex-pats in Paris, one subscribes or pays a daily fee to use it.  So off on the bus where as usual along the way appears a vide-grenier ( basically a flea market) for the Belleville neighborhood, so off the bus and into the fray.  It's packed and mostly garage sale like items, but in our everlasting attempt to 'fleece the locals' I wade in.  At this point I should to address an interesting phenomenon I've noticed, people will be walking along and suddenly, as if stunned by a blow to the head, will just stop in midstream and stare off, maybe at some trinket for sale; or maybe across the street at some shop that they just noticed for the first time, hard to tell.  So you start to move around them and they take a step or two forward, you pause; they stop again; you start again; they step, it's a stuttering tango until either they get moving again or you force your way past them.  I have a lot to learn regarding this, so I tried to learn to go with the flow, but of course there are other locals that have the same need to move as us American ploucs and they are pushing the flow from behind. 

In my slowing up and adjusting to the flow, I spotted a little a vendor with a table full of little sculptures that looked as if they might have promise, but they were on an opposite aisle. So I decided to just finish my look at this aisle and come around to it on the way back.  So I just walked and gawked and made my way around, but just as I got to the table the woman finished covering up everything and pushing boxes under the table and left, for lunch no doubt!  So I left. 

I boarded the next bus on my way to the library and it turned out to have a truncated route and they pushed us off the bus well short of the normal end of the route.  So I took off on foot in what I felt was the basic direction to link up to a connecting bus.  I finally got to a spot where I was confident of my location and headed off for another quick look at a Marche des Brocantes (antiques and collectibles) in the St. Paul village neighborhood along the way.  It was very much different than the earlier one, no crowds, high prices, etc. but interesting nonetheless.

I did actually make it to the library 5 hours after starting, when they had about 2 hrs before they closed, but didn't find anything interesting for sale.  I found an impressive Art Nouveau building just at the corner of the street the library inhabits, reminiscent of Madrid and Barcelona quite beautiful. Then it was the bus back home using a new route.

Deb cleaned the apartment, and I'll leave her to describe that. 

In my own defense I do vacuum the apartment after her cleanup, with only the lightest of prompting. From the Red Green show,  Possum Lodge credo, " I'm a man and I can change... if I have to... I think"