The dog has won. After attempts at implementing the rule of no-dog-in-carpeted-rooms, the dog hair blew in anyway. Then, as dogs will, she laid a mournful head on her paws out in the hallway – said paws inching forward into the room. I still shoo her out of my bedroom at night when she goes nuts at the sound of her three buddies on my neighbor’s terrace. That’s as far as my authority extends. Note to self: must buy a vacuum cleaner.
The heat, yesterday: hard to describe other than as a trek through melted pudding. Everything occurring in slow motion, and still the sweat rolled off. The storm rumbled in around ten pm. The black locusts shook, the shutters knocked, the whole scene as dramatic as a poltergeist extravaganza.
Except for the lengthening list of plumbing issues, I’m growing fond of the new apartment. Solving the problems one at a time. Finally received a copy of my lease yesterday. Still don’t know when social services will come through on the loan agreement. This is August, the woman said at the rental agency. Don’t expect anything before September or October. After which she carried forward my payment of the rental fee accordingly – the advantage of doing business with a local entity, well attuned to the local economy (if you wish to call it that).
This morning on the Mediapart website, I read a long, learned piece about Greece and the failures/structural deficiencies of the euro zone. All of it well argued, pertinent, etc. Except for the fact well-argued analysis does not a solution make, especially in the face of bull-headed opposition to change. The euro zone doesn’t make sense? It does for those who profit from it. They happen to be the deciders. Eh.
Attempting to secure school insurance for two children so they can attend a few hours of day camp every week: easier said than done when the parents are destitute and the children aren’t attached to your own household. Applying the one step at a time rule on this one too.
As for story at the proto-draft stage: growing ever so slowly, like crystallization in an uncertain medium. I once wrote something I’d called Contes d’exil (Tales of Exile). At this stage, this latest venture could be titled Tales of Uncertainty (except I’m calling it something else, at the working stage).
Morale? Excellent. Slow moving through it all.