Urgh

This may not be the most articulate of subject lines, but it says it all.
Had a rather shitty night and gave up at 4.30. Shitty because I had meat -- turkey leg, to be exact -- last night for dinner, and while it was very good, the tougher kinds of meat (as opposed to chicken) often lead to stomach cramps, especially if I don't drink enough. The problem is that, while I drink lots during the day, I'm not especially fond of liquid intake at night, and so the stomach cramps woke me up around 4 a.m. Fortunately they subside as soon as I'm not lying down anymore and start drinking my tea. And I'd got 5,5 hrs of sleep, so today ought to be surviveable. And, just to be really, really positive about it, I'll have enough time to pay Lola a morning visit and still won't be late for work.

For the record: my mother's stomach surgery went very well; the doctor was happy with the result, and if she doesn't overtax herself just this once, the net they put in to close the hole is going to merge with the muscle, and the problem-- well, this one at least -- will be a thing of the past. Surgery took place on the 24th, and before she went to hospital, my mother told me that this time she and my father were going to a health spa right after her return home. I was amazed but ready to believe the unbelievable. As it turns out, miracles don't happen after all. When I talked to her on Saturday, I asked when they were going to leave, and she said that it had been postponed. Why? Well, because my father, too, had been prescribed a 3-week cure at the spa, but it would take a bit of time for the prescription to pass the bureaucratic procedure. So what, I said, you can go anyway, and then extend or go again once his prescription has been authorized. Erm, well, no, because, you see...
I was on the verge of exploding but didn't of course -- it's not as if it's not her own fault, too, but screaming at her wouldn't have made it better or changed anything.
What frightens me slightly about myself is the fact that, yes, I got angry for a bit, but then thought, oh what the hell, if you want to ruin your life and health, do it. There's nothing I can do about it, and I'm really beyond caring. You see, it's not that I don't love her, but she's so totally out of my reach and in her own world -- where everything makes perfect sense of course -- that investing myself emotionally wouldn't have any effect besides emotional exhaustion and frustration on my side, and none whatsoever on hers. Most people would think of me as a cold-hearted bitch, and maybe I am, but that can't be helped I'm afraid.

In order to finish this post on a more positive note: I believe spring has come. Finally. The forecast predicts rising temperatures, and the air smells like spring.
Oh, and Janine will be visiting from 17 to 21 March. She won't come to the Viennese Ball, but I'll take the days off work, so as to enjoy her visit as much possible. Hopefully this time there'll be neither sickness nor torrential rain. That would be nice for a change.

Our Lady of The Whip

Due to lack of sleep my fuse is a bit short today, and so I called the estate agent -- through whom Alexandra had rented her flat -- in mid-morning and told them that I felt a little embarrassed for having recommended them to my friend, as things weren't going as smoothly as with my and Irene's flat.
The young man I talked to went through all the commonly prescribed states of indignation, abject apology and humble promises, with the result that the cat protection net for Lola is being installed as I write, the kitchen boiler repaired (thermostat didn't work), pots and pans are being provided, and Alexandra gets the third key which, up till now, has been clutched in the claw-like hands of the landlord's mother.
Ha.
I also explained that advertising two plug-in radiators as "individual electricity heating" was very, very close to cheating when dealing with customers from Western Europe, especially when the normal radiators -- the ones commonly used for central or individual heating -- are *there*, so that people automatically assume there's a central heating unit and don't check whether it's really there.
Have to admit that coming down on him like a ton of bricks, weight increased by being a diplomat, made me feel quite good.
But I also told Slavica no to worry and just finish at 12 at my place, go next door and lock Lola into the bedroom, and to stay there until the workers had finished. She can do the rest on Wednesday, and I won't die of shock if, just this once, one or two rooms aren't sparkling with cleanliness when I get home. So much for karmic balance.

And in order to close the circle I started with this morning's post, let me say that what really worries me is the fact that I'm fretting more over Lola's well-being than over my mother's. That's a bit... strange. Even taking into consideration that the suffering of animals almost always touches me more deeply than what human beings may have to endure. On the plus side, that's proof that I'm not totally heartless. Strange but not cold-hearted. Calloo, callay!