There’s a hole in my Alfa, dear Liza, a hole.
Two holes if you want to be more accurate.
A black one if you want to be facetious.
There’s a hole in my bathroom, dear Liza, a hole.
There is now anyway. Luckily.
Until this evening it was so blocked up that there wasn’t much hole left at all.
It was quite gross and horrendously smelly.
I cleaned and unblocked it though, so it’s all good, and the vinegar worked its magic on the smell. I can hopefully bath in peace now, without flooding the whole room.
There are holes in my walls, dear Liza, there’s holes.
I finally borrowed a hammer and started putting pictures up today. It’s amazing how much more lived in a place looks when there are pictures.
Today was a strange day.
Life could be so frigging easy!
And yet it isn’t.
Yesterday I received notification that I passed the project part of my last exam, and am invited to defend it on the 29th.
That means sorting out a presentation. It’s almost 2 weeks away. No problem.
I’m away for a long weekend at a glassblowing convention starting from Thursday morning. And I had 2 boxes of aquarium plants waiting to be planted. And I promised the secretary I’d translate 4 pages of text for her.
So. Yesterday I planted the plants. All the plants. All evening.
This morning, my alternater belt jumped off its wheels.
This evening I’m going to work on the translation.
Okay, so it was nothing like a Roxette song, but it was an adventure. There’s not much more freeing than packing your stuff into the back of your own car and driving into the sunset. And there’s not much more grown up than realising when you are really really tired and should stop to sleep instead of charging on towards a goal regardless of all danger..
Lorries, even sleeping lorries, are loud. Lorries full of animals are cruel at the best of times, but are especially cruel when they have to travel so far that there are overnight stops. Those animals are [understandably] even louder than the refrigerator lorries.
The rain, when it falls, is loud. The choice between fresh air and a wet car is difficult to make while half asleep.
The seats are only so long. I’m a fairly short person and my car is fairly big, but my feet spent a lot of the night trying to find something to rest on/against.
The sun comes up on its own terms. There are no curtains in a car. You can’t choose when to turn the lights on. You get what the weather fairy gives you.
There are many things which could be considered suboptimal.
But. None of them cancels out the sense of adventure and the feeling of being alive. In fact they add to it.
So would I do it again?
Isn’t that good?!
Isn’t it also good that I got to a red traffic light in time to catch it 🙂
A couple of days ago I noticed the first few digits, and made a mental note to look out for the full string.
I can’t concentrate on driving if I’m busy looking at the numbers; it’s bad enough keeping an eye on my speed dial and in all the mirrors and out of the side windows and on the SatNag at the SAME TIME as watching where I’m going, figuring out which lane is likely to go where (we have some roads with 5 lanes of traffic in each direction), and changing gear, braking and just generally driving… So I stuck to checking while waiting for the lights to change. There was absolutely no chance of me taking a picture while still moving :).
Yesterday I drove home from work through the middle of Berlin. That was obviously a pretty stupid decision. But hey. Who doesn’t make stupid decisions sometimes?
Berlin is chocker-block-full during rush hour(s). What takes me approximately 55 minutes on the train, took me almost 2 hours with the car. There are a million traffic lights between where I work and where I live. I checked the kilometerage at every set of red lights. Just as it started getting close to my number, there was a ‘grüne Welle*’ – every light was green as I drove up to it. On any other day that would be awesome. And unlikely.
Yesterday it was more annoying than anything else.
Finally, my luck changed and I reached a red light while it was still red.
I took my photo and the light changed to green.
400m later the moment and the number were gone.
It wouldn’t have mattered to anyone or anything else if I’d missed it, but I would still have been sad, if I hadn’t had the chance to appreciate it.
* green wave