Fear not: I’m not going to turn this blog into a cooking blog. I’m not that domestic. But lately, I’ve realized that every evening I was facing the same dilemma — what to take for lunch?

I have my own office. An office with a door, a desk, a computer, a phone, a whiteboard and drawers. I also have a very cool magnetic pass to get around, one with my picture on it. I have a favorite lunch place and I hate Monday mornings. I got a new job, in the office. I feel like a lucky girl.

When I showed up at work to pick up my last pay check, after coming back from South America, most of my co-workers stared at me, slightly bewildered: “You look… different”.

I swear that’s the last time I fill in for the receptionist. I’m a bloody French teacher. NOT a receptionist. And if the woman can’t even remember if she’s supposed to be in a group or a private class I really don’t think she will do that great as a student. And.. and I hate the phone.

But she surprised me. Instead of mentioning my laziness (because she clearly remember that when she visited Paris, French were less efficient than Japanese, therefore they were lazy – some kind of genetic problem that I must have had inherited because I was very French indeed – are you following me ?) , she blamed my English.