Okay, so my resolution made many months ago to write five blogs a month has gone to hell. I started to think I could make up for lost blogs by writing the difference in the next month. (Right, so only did two last month, which means eight this month, but I wrote an extra one in May, so does that mean I only have to do seven? Carry the two and subtract four = WTF? Do not turn this blog into a story problem, exit parenthetical now)
And oh, what news to tell. The visa issue is slowly, slowly coming together. Finally received a response from the Minister of Justice saying, more paperwork please. My sources on the inside inform me this is good news and that the visa will soon be mine. The last two weeks have been spent gathering copies of documents, wrangling in old payslips and harassing my bank for a statement covering the past six months. To cement my resolve to stay here and not be a drain on the State, the bf and I took it to the next level by adding me to his health insurance. I'm not sure which 'level' that is, but we are now bound to each other via Quinn Healthcare. Soon enough we'll be talking about sharing deodorant and getting matching track suits and then there's no going back.
As for the job, I have tied my last Windsor knot and laid the hat to rest. Last Tuesday I started working for the tall Kiwi with a penchant for loud shirts and screaming insults at customers. Things have improved tenfold. My own brand of charming customer-harassment has found a home. I have yet to make a coffee since his standards are sky high and I've not yet been subjected to his personal barista boot camp, but soon enough. He often speaks of his own Robert Johnson crossroads moment involving a little old lady somewhere in Italy. She apparently calibrated her magical espresso machine of destruction and then handed him a jug of voodoo milk to steam on her wand of divilry. Thus, he was imparted with the milk-steaming talent and shot-pulling craft I find myself confronted with today.
More friends were in town, with another one showing up next weekend. I have developed a sincere love of the city bus tour. I am no longer required to figure out what my friends will enjoy in terms of site-seeing, for €15 the bus driver does it all for me. And while I love my friends, if one more of them asks to go to the Guinness Warehouse, I'll throw a pint glass at their head. Biggest rip-off ever. Next week's guest: you have been warned.
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I spent how much on grad school? I do what for a living? Man, that might have been a bad idea.
4 comments:
The Dead Zoo is always a winner, but as it's currently closed for repairs this will have to do
I always really enjoy reading your blog. And am so pleased to learn that you're having some luck, or good signs, with your visa situation.
Hope the new job continues to be an improvement. And hope you will write lots more blog posts.
stupid dead zoo is STILL closed? I was really looking forward to it last year when I was there; I had to settle for vikings and dried up bog men.
Make sure to take some people by that hotel where Hitler met Eva Braun, or had bagels, or whatever.
Fingers crossed on the visa situation! I'm in a similar situation myself....it's a royal pain.
Be delighted to commiserate over a 3euro coffee some day :)
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