Frankie Calling Gyrl

Tragic no-voicing near-crashing week...
2004-09-17,9:01 p.m.
Past and Future

...It feels weird to write as if someone would actually read this. I've been gone for so long I can't even count to the number of days I've been gone.

Stupid bloody net connection is still on hold. Apparently there was a problem downstairs in our building and that's why our net hasn't been working for two and half months. Checked the connection today after the man had called from downstairs and said it all works now. Does it work, what do you reckon? IT BLOODY DOESN'T!!! I don't know what to do next. I've called a million people and I only want the connection open. Shouldn't be that hard.

Aaaaanyways. My temperature has gone up and it's passed the fever limit some days ago. I still went to work today, yesterday and the day before. I don't have a voice. I whisper. Imagine whispering to 35 gossipping salsa-dancing women that you want them to listen to you. Mmm. Lush. So it's nice to be able to be quiet and not have to talk to anyone for the rest of the evening.

Em has gone to Helsinki, he has an emergency gig there, and he's only coming back after I've fallen soundly asleep. I like falling asleep on my own and having him crawl next to me in the middle of the night. There's so many little things I like doing late at night, sitting on my puter, reading a book, knitting, writing my diary... I only really do them when I'm by myself. So it's extra lush to have some nights just to do those things.

It's strange to think work is starting properly next week. Up until now it's been one class here and there, four on Tuesdays. Now it'll be three on Mondays, four on Tuesdays, one both on Wednesdays and Thursdays and three on Fridays. The whole sitting-in-busses business will be on full blow and I'll come home between nine and ten each nite. I have some paper stuff to do tonight and then I'm letting go of the work for the weekend. Tomorrow I'm not doing anything useful, apart from making some food. I'll lay in bed and drink hot blackcurrant and eat Karelian Pies and imagine living in an old little cottage that's been built in the 1920s in the middle of some apple trees and cry.

I was closer than I've ever ever been to buying a house this week. A little green cottage of some 60 sq.meters in the middle of apples and plums and raspberries and redcurrants. Two floors and a fireplace, original windows and doors. Tiny as anything and so cute. When calling up the agent for the second time to ask if we could see the house and then leave a possible booking for it if it's in as good state as they claimed it is, he plainly stated the house had been sold two days prior to our call. The two days prior to the call we'd just been to see the house in the morning and the agent had given us time from a couple of days to a few weeks to sort out a loan and to hand in an offer. The same night he'd sold it to someone else. It would have been perfect, and now it's lost. Dammit.

That and the flu and just nearly missing being in a big car accident (by about an inch or two) has not made this the best week of my life.

But I've learned so much. That everything is not meant to be although it looks blatantly obvious to me, that it's not advisable to not take a sick leave from work when you can't speak. I've learned a ton about old houses that have been built in the 1920s and I've realised I really do want to share this little life of mine with the darling Em, full on.

So I'm sitting here, in my ballet-pink pyjamas drinking tea and winding down after shouting over a bunch of random dancers who do not realise their teacher is trying to talk to them because there is no sound coming from her lips. Sigh.

Paperwork.

Then to take a shower, and to bed. Let the weekend begin.

-f xxx

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