I’d like to blame stupid decisions on being drunk, but unfortunately my alcohol tolerance is increasing and my bank account is depleting at about the same rate. So I can’t really pin rash and potentially catastrophic decisions on anything besides the weakness of my own cheesecloth brain.
Last week I was out with Nina and her friend Dana, who currently lives in Iowa but was in town for Nina’s going away party. Dana has a wide assortment of French friends, due to having lived in the sunny city of Besançon for a year and teaching English. While sitting at the Bourgeois Pig, slowly nursing my expensive drink to make it last, Dana asked me if I happened to know of anyone who could put up one of her various French friends. The girl is to start as a French GTA this fall, Dana said, and when she asked for assistance with housing, I guess the university has proven to be less than helpful (good ol’ Jayhawks).
Since the girl (as spoken for by Dana) sounded quite desperate, I mentioned off-hand the possibility of her staying at my place. Eli’s housesitting gig runs until the middle of this month, and as I’ll probably be spending more time over there than at my newly acquired digs, she could probably crash at my empty, unfurnished place for a couple of nights. If, of course, there was no other option available for her. “Great!” said Dana, “You’re awesome, thanks!” And that was that.
For some reason, I had gotten the impression that the girl was arriving in the next few days and was in a serious bind. A few days later, I hadn’t heard back from Dana, so I asked her about it. I gathered from her that the girl in question is not actually a direct friend of Dana’s, but a friend of a “really good friend who was in x program” with Dana. Ooohh-kay. So she doesn’t know the French mystery girl, but has seen “her Facebook and thinks she’d be really nice.”
Oh boy. What have I done?
A week passes, and I’ve already gotten the keys to my new place and have moved most of my furniture in. Eli and Danny’s housesitting duties end next week. I send Dana another message, reminding her that the girl can’t stay with me if she comes after the 15th (and for a girl who’s so desperate for housing, she seems oddly quiet on the communication front). Dana says she’s on it, not to worry and thanks me again. A few days after that, she sends us both an email – half in French, directed to French girl of course, and half in English, to me. As of yet, no information about when the girl is arriving or how long she will need to stay.
Should I be a bit concerned at this point? I am offering up my place to a complete stranger. I hope she stays for a day or two, finds an apartment right away, and goes off on her merry way. Without taking my stuff, or murdering my cat, or whatever dreadful things my mother has trained me to expect from other people.
One Comment
You should make her watch the flight of the conchords video, as a sign of goodwill—to show her how french-friendly you are! (if she ever arrives)
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