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Sleepover et al.
Jan. 2nd, 2011 10:17 amI do hope that the fact of having spent the first night wholly belonging to 2011 in another bed than my own, but with a small, black cat, isn't going to become the inofficial motto for 2011.
Lola enjoyed the experience and company, I think. So did I, except when she woke me at 4 and 6 a.m., having her mad 20 minutes and repeatedly thundering across my prone, defenceless body. But there was also cuddling and playing, and when she's cuddly she's so overwhelmingly sweet that I more or less forget about my right arm looking as if it had been attacked by a bloodthirsty rosebush.
New Year's Eve didn't get any better than it had started, i.e. I was feeling so totally, utterly sad, tired and worn-out that I decided to stay home. It wasn't the kind of sad that gets better in company, but the kind of sad which calls for sleep and alcohol (not necessarily in that order). Since I was dead tired anyway, not much alcohol was needed to achieve the desired result, and I slept almost 12 hours, interrupted only by the occasional 30 minutes of drowsily glancing at the TV. Not one of my most glorious moments, I must say, but sometimes it's better just to give in to the sadness and let it wash over me, and if it happens on a night where one is supposed to be doing glamorous things, well, fuck the expectations.
Yesterday's weather was again fantastic, so I set out around 10.30 a.m. and walked the 30 minutes or so to Lola's place. While there, I received a text message from boss informing me that the light was on in my office. He can't get in, so I had to go, which wasn't a problem, because I'd been planning to take the panoramic route home anyway (i.e. about 4 km up-river and home from there, more or less passing by the Embassy).
Boss was still there when I arrived, preparing for a lecture he'll be giving next week in Austria. We talked for a bit, and he asked whether I was feeling better.
The following dialogue was probably one of those "you had to be there" things, but since it got us both laughing so hard that we had to wipe away the tears, it's worth recording.
First off, the necessary explanations for the non-german-speaking majority:
1) We have this saying "Jemandem einen Schuss vor den Bug setzen", i.e. "To aim a shot right next to the prow", i.e. giving somebody a rather drastic warning
2) The German word "Biss" means "bite", and "Pissen" means, well, to piss.
3) Boss brought his dog, the charming 5-months old Golden Retriever girl, to work on Thursday, and we let her out into the small patch of garden in front of my office, where she shat right next to the flagpole carrying the Austrian flag without further ado.
Boss: So how are you today? A bit better?
Me: A little, yes.
Boss: Is there any way I can help you?
Me, scarcely refraining from hugging him for being so nice: Thank you so much, but no. Matters of the heart, you know...
Boss: Well, our doctor of confidence *is* a cardiologist
Me: I meant metaphorically.
Boss: Oh.
Me: And I can scarcely send you out with a gun, can I?
Boss: I'm not very good with guns, I'm afraid. ButI could go to the guy with my extremely dangerous dog, and she could give him "einen Biss vor den Bug" [aim a bite right next to the prow]
Me, imagining small dog attacking Mr H, laughing: That sounds great. But considering what that dog usually does, I guess she'd have to piss right next to the prow, that's definitely what she does best.
Boss, laughing: Oh yes, like the, like the... flagpole!
*both collapsing with laughter*
So the weekend is slowly improving, and now I'm home with ze boyz again. Irene returns today, and there will be tennis at 4, and next week should be rather quiet. The lingering sadness is still there, but I'll get over it, because I have to.
Lola enjoyed the experience and company, I think. So did I, except when she woke me at 4 and 6 a.m., having her mad 20 minutes and repeatedly thundering across my prone, defenceless body. But there was also cuddling and playing, and when she's cuddly she's so overwhelmingly sweet that I more or less forget about my right arm looking as if it had been attacked by a bloodthirsty rosebush.
New Year's Eve didn't get any better than it had started, i.e. I was feeling so totally, utterly sad, tired and worn-out that I decided to stay home. It wasn't the kind of sad that gets better in company, but the kind of sad which calls for sleep and alcohol (not necessarily in that order). Since I was dead tired anyway, not much alcohol was needed to achieve the desired result, and I slept almost 12 hours, interrupted only by the occasional 30 minutes of drowsily glancing at the TV. Not one of my most glorious moments, I must say, but sometimes it's better just to give in to the sadness and let it wash over me, and if it happens on a night where one is supposed to be doing glamorous things, well, fuck the expectations.
Yesterday's weather was again fantastic, so I set out around 10.30 a.m. and walked the 30 minutes or so to Lola's place. While there, I received a text message from boss informing me that the light was on in my office. He can't get in, so I had to go, which wasn't a problem, because I'd been planning to take the panoramic route home anyway (i.e. about 4 km up-river and home from there, more or less passing by the Embassy).
Boss was still there when I arrived, preparing for a lecture he'll be giving next week in Austria. We talked for a bit, and he asked whether I was feeling better.
The following dialogue was probably one of those "you had to be there" things, but since it got us both laughing so hard that we had to wipe away the tears, it's worth recording.
First off, the necessary explanations for the non-german-speaking majority:
1) We have this saying "Jemandem einen Schuss vor den Bug setzen", i.e. "To aim a shot right next to the prow", i.e. giving somebody a rather drastic warning
2) The German word "Biss" means "bite", and "Pissen" means, well, to piss.
3) Boss brought his dog, the charming 5-months old Golden Retriever girl, to work on Thursday, and we let her out into the small patch of garden in front of my office, where she shat right next to the flagpole carrying the Austrian flag without further ado.
Boss: So how are you today? A bit better?
Me: A little, yes.
Boss: Is there any way I can help you?
Me, scarcely refraining from hugging him for being so nice: Thank you so much, but no. Matters of the heart, you know...
Boss: Well, our doctor of confidence *is* a cardiologist
Me: I meant metaphorically.
Boss: Oh.
Me: And I can scarcely send you out with a gun, can I?
Boss: I'm not very good with guns, I'm afraid. ButI could go to the guy with my extremely dangerous dog, and she could give him "einen Biss vor den Bug" [aim a bite right next to the prow]
Me, imagining small dog attacking Mr H, laughing: That sounds great. But considering what that dog usually does, I guess she'd have to piss right next to the prow, that's definitely what she does best.
Boss, laughing: Oh yes, like the, like the... flagpole!
*both collapsing with laughter*
So the weekend is slowly improving, and now I'm home with ze boyz again. Irene returns today, and there will be tennis at 4, and next week should be rather quiet. The lingering sadness is still there, but I'll get over it, because I have to.
