2003-10-16 - 5:55 p.m.
chest cold, moving gold
Fun with friends and/or family leads immediately to chest colds. I now have two data points to support this working hypothesis. Either that or I have a Protestant guilt thing going on that means that any kind of fun is okay as long as it is followed by something miserable, like, a chest cold. Ugh.
I woke up this morning and felt like someone had stuffed me with cotton and was trying to hammer it out of me. And then I realized that I was just trying to breathe. Got out bed and realized that someone had actually filled my apartment with a highly viscous fluid that *looked* like air but was more like clear tar. Rather than push myself through the stuff to get to the bathroom, I rolled over and went back to sleep and woke up at 4pm. There is a distinct possibility that this is related to the SineAid tablet that I forced myself to take last night, but I’d rather think not.
Apart from all the gross stuff associated with colds: Yesterday I got a quote in the mail from the international moving company. 7400 euros to move my life back to NY. I skipped a breath or two. Naively I was hoping that the first company I found would be wonderful and helpful and would hold my hand and get me through this painlessly at a rate of 2000 euros, (which is a little bit more than what the college will pay). I was so hoping that this would be easy. Now I have landed on THIS planet, and I see how stupid this assumption was.
So, I did what I normally do when I get upsetting bureaucratic German news. I called K. KKKKK!!!!!!! He laughed out loud when he heard the quote, and in less than 15 minutes had efficiently located a second firm. Not only that, it’s a firm that will give me a quote and a contract entirely in English, and a rate analyst who has lived in the USA for 16 years who is willing to “work with me, here.” I am temporarily hopeful.
What made me even more hopeful was the Omen. Not Damian, just an omen. They can be positive, right??? I walked down to the bus stop and saw the number 40 driving past, just as it always does when I get just close enough to see it but not close enough to run to it. I thought there was no hope and so I just dallied slowly down the hill. But the bus driver WAITED for me!! Do you know how many times in 5 years a bus driver has waited for me in J*na?? Hmmm…let me count here…including this time that would be…..ONCE. Wow. I was amazed.
I usually look for these signs at the beginning of the day to see how the rest of the daylight hours are going to proceed (for example, if you drop your keys in the sewer just as you leave the house, this would be considered not a good sign). But what does it mean when they happen at the END of the day? My only conclusion is that, and I quote Ethel Merman on this – everything’s comin’ up roses. Heck, it’s possible my furniture will FLY to NY on its own now. (Just give me this feeling for a little while, ok?)
I wish I could find that bus driver and tell him how much hope he gave me…but then I’d probably learn that the bus had actually stalled out and he was stuck there until the moment I got on. And I’d rather live with my fantasy of out-of-routine goodness.
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...they are just words, Suzi... - 2011-08-29