so the “Old Age Security” check arrives from my country of birth. Ah, currency exchange ! Thanks to thee, the already modest amount is fifteen euro less than last month. Let a smile be my umbrella.
I sort through accumulated papers. I paint a new face on the clown. I wait for the fortuitous – the one, the only, the indispensable – that moves the creaking apparatus of story making one. step. further.
And I embrace my inner sloth. Heck, if unpaid holidays don’t entitle a body to slothdom, what does? Must I wait for the grave in order to laze on a couch while I own one? No, I must not.
Plus, big day: With the official arrival of winter, the clown gets to wear his boots again.
Voilà. This was the blogpost for Monday, December 21st 2016.