In the Muslim world, they have what's called the Hand of Fatima, supposed to keep the evil eye away - and you're never supposed to say that things are good, because that's bound to attract that bastard evil eye, envious bugger that it is.
I've had a Hamsa pendant for many years, but I haven't worn it very often. Lately, with everything going so well, I thought I should wear it again, considering I've been shouting my fantastic news from the rooftops, cyber and otherwise, for a while now. It just seemed like a sensible precaution to prevent that bastard evil eye from taking a renewed interest in me. Except I kind of forgot about it.
A few years back, a friend and colleague got me a little present: a heart-shaped keyring, very pretty and shiny - a lovely little present, really, so I used it. After a while, things started to go downhill for me at an alarming rate. Of course I put two and two together and the keyring at the bottom of a box where I keep all my rarely-used keys and where I quickly forgot about it.
And things started looking slowly up.
Last weekend, when I started packing, I emptied the box and decided I'd give the keyring to someone. It's been a sitting on a shelf for the past three days.
Out in the open.
Apparently, I've released the antichrist.
Everything is falling apart! I'm never finding a tenant here, I'm never finding a flat over there, and I'm never getting rid of all the stuff I want rid off! And my visa is never going to be ready on time!
Call it overreaction, but I reckoned an exorcism was in order. So the keyring is now buried deep inside the trash, and the pendant tucked safely inside my tee.
"I cast you out!"
28 mars 2007
26 mars 2007
Numb3rs
Time I finally went to sleep last night: around 3:00 a.m.
Time I woke up for good this morning: 7:30 a.m.
Number of times I woke up in-between: 500 zillion.
Number of expense-related phone calls I've made so far today: around 11
Number of flatshare ads I've replied to so far: 5,017
Number of flat viewings secured: 0
Number of hefty cheques I've signed so far today: 3
Number of boxes packed over the weekend: 10
Number of new pairs of glasses: 1
Total number of glasses: 4
Potential case of glasses-fetishism: 1
Visa-related news: 0
Number of times I felt like I was dealing with people who thought they were dealing with a moron: 1
Number of stuff* I have to get rid of in the next three weeks: enough for a yard sale
Conclusion: the ulcer is growing and the TV show has got it all sussed out: when there's that many numbers involved, someone is bound to die.
* I know.
Time I woke up for good this morning: 7:30 a.m.
Number of times I woke up in-between: 500 zillion.
Number of expense-related phone calls I've made so far today: around 11
Number of flatshare ads I've replied to so far: 5,017
Number of flat viewings secured: 0
Number of hefty cheques I've signed so far today: 3
Number of boxes packed over the weekend: 10
Number of new pairs of glasses: 1
Total number of glasses: 4
Potential case of glasses-fetishism: 1
Visa-related news: 0
Number of times I felt like I was dealing with people who thought they were dealing with a moron: 1
Number of stuff* I have to get rid of in the next three weeks: enough for a yard sale
Conclusion: the ulcer is growing and the TV show has got it all sussed out: when there's that many numbers involved, someone is bound to die.
* I know.
19 mars 2007
What happens when you let go of your principles...?
You win completely undeserved money, is what.
So far, 2007 is proving to be one incredibly good year for me. This feels both long overdue and incredibly scary: I'm now waiting for the proverbial sword to fall right on my unsuspecting brow.
Although, considering I'm waiting for it, I guess my brow would have to be incredibly low to be unsuspecting, at this point. But I digress.
I'm still waiting for my visa to come through. If I haven't heard anything next week, I'll start worrying. But I'm sure you'll agree with me that it would be incredibly bad form of fate to have it all come together only for a little bit of paperwork to bring everything to a screeching halt. Especially as there is little in the world that I despise more than screeching, except when it's the result of my own vocal cords working their little stringy butts out, of course.
Anyway. A lovely couple viewed the flat today, and they seemed very interested. In fact, they were so interested that I felt guilty thinking that maybe the agency would veto them or that they would not find a guarantor. And they want the flat furnished, which is a huge thorn off of my side.
Too many miracles, I tell you.
Still. As of yet, I haven't found the perfect flat I was talking about before (after checking, it appears I'd already mentioned the en-suite bathroom. I wonder what that says about me...).
Which obviously raises the question: what on earth is fate doing right now, twiddling its thumbs like the job is all done?! Tsh. So hard to find good personnel these days.
So far, 2007 is proving to be one incredibly good year for me. This feels both long overdue and incredibly scary: I'm now waiting for the proverbial sword to fall right on my unsuspecting brow.
Although, considering I'm waiting for it, I guess my brow would have to be incredibly low to be unsuspecting, at this point. But I digress.
I'm still waiting for my visa to come through. If I haven't heard anything next week, I'll start worrying. But I'm sure you'll agree with me that it would be incredibly bad form of fate to have it all come together only for a little bit of paperwork to bring everything to a screeching halt. Especially as there is little in the world that I despise more than screeching, except when it's the result of my own vocal cords working their little stringy butts out, of course.
Anyway. A lovely couple viewed the flat today, and they seemed very interested. In fact, they were so interested that I felt guilty thinking that maybe the agency would veto them or that they would not find a guarantor. And they want the flat furnished, which is a huge thorn off of my side.
Too many miracles, I tell you.
Still. As of yet, I haven't found the perfect flat I was talking about before (after checking, it appears I'd already mentioned the en-suite bathroom. I wonder what that says about me...).
Which obviously raises the question: what on earth is fate doing right now, twiddling its thumbs like the job is all done?! Tsh. So hard to find good personnel these days.
12 mars 2007
Bad mother, bad!
Decisions have been made. Sacrifices even.
There are around 400 books in this flat, about 320 of which are going to have be left behind to make space for other, more "important" stuff so I don't have to sell a kidney before I leave to pay for their transport.
I feel like I'm abandoning my children.
No, I don't really, but did that feel dramatic enough?
To be completely honest (and am I ever anything but?), some of them I'm actually glad to be rid of. My personal hall-of-shame books: bad chick lit and Patricia Cornwells mostly. Still. They were my hall of shame. Now I'm probably going to have to give them away to friends. Hey, I bought them. The shame will surely be a lot more tolerable if they don't even have to spend a farthing for them, won't it? They could even argue that they're doing it as a favour to me if that makes them feel better about it. You and I will always know better, though. Our little secret. Our leverage.
Or I could leave them at my parents', in boxes, with scores of other books that are already there, and where they will see no light for... ever, probably. And let me remind you that that sort of behaviour is usually frowned upon when applied to children. Just sayin'.
I guess there's always the bonfire solution, auto-da-fe style.
I'm torn.
There are around 400 books in this flat, about 320 of which are going to have be left behind to make space for other, more "important" stuff so I don't have to sell a kidney before I leave to pay for their transport.
I feel like I'm abandoning my children.
No, I don't really, but did that feel dramatic enough?
To be completely honest (and am I ever anything but?), some of them I'm actually glad to be rid of. My personal hall-of-shame books: bad chick lit and Patricia Cornwells mostly. Still. They were my hall of shame. Now I'm probably going to have to give them away to friends. Hey, I bought them. The shame will surely be a lot more tolerable if they don't even have to spend a farthing for them, won't it? They could even argue that they're doing it as a favour to me if that makes them feel better about it. You and I will always know better, though. Our little secret. Our leverage.
Or I could leave them at my parents', in boxes, with scores of other books that are already there, and where they will see no light for... ever, probably. And let me remind you that that sort of behaviour is usually frowned upon when applied to children. Just sayin'.
I guess there's always the bonfire solution, auto-da-fe style.
I'm torn.
04 mars 2007
Whoa... So many changes, so little time
Right. First things first. Honestly, I like old. And I don't like being bullied. And it does feel like I've just been bullied into updating to the new Blogger version. Which, by the by, looks ugly.
I didn't want to change to the new Blogger. I'm annoyed.
OK, now that's out of the way and, possibly, my system... I've just booked (not paid yet: baby steps...) a one-way ticket to the city that never sleeps. One bloody way. That's a bit scary. But strangely cheaper than getting a return sometime in 2008 (seriously, do people pay €2,000 for planes tickets??).
That visa had better come through now.
It would also be nice if I found a tenant for my flat. And a fantastic, furnished place, with en-suite bathroom, in a very trendy area within easy commute from work, for very cheap (utilities, cable and wireless internet included, of course).
Although - come to think of it - I'm not exactly looking forward to walking around the flat in my underwear in exchange for free rent. But I guess we'll cross that bridge if we come to it.
OK, let's not kid ourselves here. We'll burn that bridge right now, before we ever get to it.
How does one start a new life with only 46kg-luggage?
Hmmm. Underwear, uh...
I didn't want to change to the new Blogger. I'm annoyed.
OK, now that's out of the way and, possibly, my system... I've just booked (not paid yet: baby steps...) a one-way ticket to the city that never sleeps. One bloody way. That's a bit scary. But strangely cheaper than getting a return sometime in 2008 (seriously, do people pay €2,000 for planes tickets??).
That visa had better come through now.
It would also be nice if I found a tenant for my flat. And a fantastic, furnished place, with en-suite bathroom, in a very trendy area within easy commute from work, for very cheap (utilities, cable and wireless internet included, of course).
Although - come to think of it - I'm not exactly looking forward to walking around the flat in my underwear in exchange for free rent. But I guess we'll cross that bridge if we come to it.
OK, let's not kid ourselves here. We'll burn that bridge right now, before we ever get to it.
How does one start a new life with only 46kg-luggage?
Hmmm. Underwear, uh...
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