Alright, so maybe we broke the neighbor's door. But it wasn't our fault, okay?
As Elder Hill likes to say, "It was the Satan's couch's fault."
There we were, innocently trying to get a large couch down the narrow staircase of an apartment building. The ceiling wasn't quite tall enough to have the couch stand upright, and we came to a standstill at the corner of the stairs. We figured it would be easier if we opened the neighbor's door so we could maneuver the couch, so we rang the doorbell and asked for permission. She kindly allowed us to do so, and we shimmied the couch through the opening. As it was passing through the doorway, the keys fell to the ground. (In France the locks work differently. You have to keep the keys in the lock or you can lock yourself inside the house.) We didn't think anything of it, until everyone saw that the key had broken, with the tip still inside the door. Oops.
Due to our mistake, we had the privilege of calling a Parisian locksmith, which ended up being two little punks in a small electric car. After calculating the work necessary to get the key out of the lock, they handed us a quote for 450 euros. We thought for a minute and figured, "Hey, if these two guys can do it, so can we." With that, we declined their offer and headed off to fix the lock on our own. 40 euros and a trip to the hardware store later, we had the door in better shape than when we found it. 90 percent savings, anyone? I'm never calling a repairman again.
On the downside, the couch never made it out of the apartment. We deemed the task as "not possible," at least not with the couch in one piece. On the bright side, the neighbor lady was one of the nicest people we've ever met, and she sat and talked to us about missions and the church while we repaired the door. "The missionaries have always been the best neighbors. I always wished I could have some more time to talk to them about what they do and what it's all about." It was a nice chat.
Thursday morning, we found out that we would be having a surprise conference with three members of the seventy, Elders Osguthorpe, Ridd, and Boutoille. Therefore, Elder Hill and I were charged with getting enough food for the 100 people and missionaries who would be attending. We decided on Subway, and put in a last-minute order for 320 small sandwiches. They got it all done, but as we were unloading the food out of the van, one of the platters of sandwiches didn't quite make it. The tray slipped, resulting in a thick coating of mayonnaise and barbecue chicken deep into our upholstery. At least our car permanently smells like sandwiches now.
Thursday night, we got a call from President:
"Elder Wilson. As you know, we'll be having three general authorities coming on Saturday. I need to ask you a favor."
And I thought: "Please don't make me drive them. Please don't make me drive them."
"And as I won't have too much time, I need you to clean my car for me tonight."
"Yes! I can do that. Cleaning. Easy."
Lastly, we've been working on closing down an apartment at Place de la Bastille and opening a new one next to Disneyland Paris. That mostly involved destroying a lot of furniture, transporting appliances, building more furniture, and multiple meals at McDonalds.
And thus I end mine epistle.
Have a great week!
Elder Wilson
