Oh wow... talk about wavelengths...

I ran out of food, so went to the supermarket at the train station to get a samwich.... and went to get my bus back down the hill to the square. When a man behind me was on his cell phone.

His voice was so young, the content was disturbing to me. He was expressing exactly what I was feeling.

'Gawd it's so grey, it's terrible! ... Well, yes it's a bit warmer, but I am afraid it's gonna turn again before the end of the month... What?.... Well, maybe.... And did you hear? Peter Alexander died. He was only eighty-four.... That's waay too young....'

And I thought, 'uh-oh.... my generation behind me.' The way too young thing... ok, understand it, but the man lost his only son in a racing car accident about fifteen years ago, and it broke him, and then he lost his wife to cancer about five years ago, which broke him even more. He lived for his family. But up until all the tragedy began, he had a very rich and wonderful and fruitful life, so I think he was ready to be called off the island, or globe, so to speak.

It got worse.

'No, am on the bus..... I'm just going to ride around for a while..... Stop at Hilmteich, maybe.... What? ---No, if I'm at home, I'm only going to watch tee-vee, or maybe a dvd, or Norway.' ('Whatever that means... probably ski jumping) 'I just want to drive around, and after Hilmteich (a pond) I will go back to the Main Square for a while, and then I will go home, and go to bed. ....Yes. ....Bye.'

Whereupon it was my stop, and I was on the seat in front of him, the exit door was behind him, and there he was, head bent, sorrowful, black-framed glasses, going a bit bald and the picture of depression. Hell, I thought I was looking into a mirror.

It wasn't so much the content as the tone. He sounded so defeated, my heart nearly went out to him. Except two depris do NOT a happy couple make. sigh....

But seriously... he was saying a lot that I would NEVER say, and it hit me hard.

Except---I'd have been of no help since I feel exactly the same hopelessness. Recipe for disaster.

But he made me very sad.

Hurrah! Huzzah!" Blech!

Second day of snow, and two more to go, so they say... I called Peter to let him know I was coming to visit and got the bus to the train station out on the square. That's the Schloßberg in the back, all frosty. And grumpy people who didn't like the weather any more than I did. But off I went, all right....



Children play the same games all over the world, I guess. At the bus stop in Ehrenhausen, it was 'king of the hill and throwing snow and slush balls at the kids on our side of the square.




And give them a steep hill, they're goina tireleslly climb it and sled down it. They were having fun, at least....






Not something I was having, as the streets down there were poorly cleared, and I dislike that, and it had begun snowing again. Peter had rung me up just as I was about to leave. Panicked. Did I know his room number, he was in Gamlitz, and would I be able to FIND him... I had to calm him down, and said, yes, I knew where he was.


And for the first time in 38 years... he didn't know it was my birthday. He was always a terror, ringing me out of bed at a god-awful hour, because he wanted to be the first to congratulate me.... which is actually silly, because I had no process in the part of being BORN.... but it's nicely meant and all... Today? He knew the date, I sort of ascertained that discreetly. And I softly said, 'which means it's my birthday.' He looked devastated, and crestfallen. And then he got angry. 'They are stealing my memory with their damned meds! I can't remember everything any more! And I WILL SUE THEM!' I should have kept my mouf shut. Wasn't anticipating that reaction at all.

And just so's you know... we never did much on our birfdays even when there was oodles of money . It was just important to wish 'Happy Happy' have some cake, and I would do the Harry's Bar Chocolate one for him, which is so delicious, and he'd get a good one for me from the best bakery in town, we'd have some real champagne, and the birfday boy would get a small present.

We didn't go all ostentatious at Christmas either. Small things we knew the other would like.

The real killer gifts weren't on horridays, in other words. And we'd do it 'just because...' Because one of us would like or be surprised by what the other did, and really go off the charts to thank them. I really liked that. We were sort of weird like that.

Wish to thank the nice people who sent their good wishes and greetings. And to one person in particular who took a moment per telephone, and had news that dismayed me to the max. I can't divulge, but it floored me. That she would even THINK to call... oh wow. So to everyone... here's a pretty picture to bring a bit of cheer, and is so Disney I could throw up, but it might have been the day if we all lived in La-La Land... It's the city hall in Ehrenhausen this evening, and I got it lopsided because I was standing on a snowbank, but look, 'oooo! Shiny pretty!' I didn't want to correct it. Please note. In the olden days, like thirty some odd years ago, only white lights were 'chic'. Now they use some muted colors. I'll never forget the year I did a tree, and was sick and tired of having heart attacks using candles on it and waiting for it to go up in flames. With local straw ornaments on it, mind you.... My Mom saw a photo of my first one and freaked out. So that year, I decided hybrid was the way to go. Candles? Ok, but ten minutes max and watch it like a hawk. And I did the oooh, and ahhhhhh! candle thing that year. And snuffed them out, and THEN... I plugged in the lights, two strings, all white, and it was a totally different tree.

Peter was completely shocked. And so silent so long, I thought, 'ooooo.... very bad move, very bad'. And THEN he said, 'This is bee-you-ti-ful.' Big sigh of relief there. And over the following years, he came to like that so much, he would sit evenings in the living room with just the white lights on it, light the candles on the Advent wreath as the season progressed, and really enjoy it.

I shudder to think how he would have reacted if I had put on a string of colored lights.... btw. But THAT is the art of comprimise....

And NO, I hated Christmas trees, but I sure knew how to put one up and decorate it.

Sorry, am only trying to repress something I just heard.

Thank you all.

On The Road Again....

Yup, another trek to Gamlitz. I shot this from the bus window just inside the town limits, so you can see how late Fall it has become, and how the village lies nestled at the bottom of those hills in the background. New driver, but seemingly, I've become something of a news item in that little backwater town. Because on the way back, he said, 'I hear you come down here to visit your friend in the nursing home every week. That is so nice of you.' And I thought, 'Whoa!' That was surprising. Looks like I'm getting a 'rep, but it's positive, at least. We had a nice discussion on the way back... but still... you live in a village, wow, everyone knows everyone's business, and since I'm the 'outsider', travelling there every week, have raised curiosity. Oh no, Preciousses, I certainly wouldn't want to live there, for sure.

Approching the home... saw something new. The heretofore tall green grasses next to the doctor's office went all fuzzy, and the late Fall light made me stop and have to snap them. They were just beautiful. I suppose those are all seedlings for next year, but I found them fascinating. And oh yeah... that building in the back right that looks like a bunker is the nursing home.


I'd had to plunder Peter's bank account as promised, because he got his double pension payment, and most of it had to go for co-pay for his meds, and there was never enough to keep up with it all. I'd promised the office in August that I would do so, and it killed me to slap down six hundred eighty Euros on the counter, and keep my word. Peter had ok'd it back then, and wasn't so ga-ga at the time, just a slip here or there. Otherwise, I've never touched his account. Other than for the bus/train money to go there once a week, which he also ok'd back in March.

So I had to go into wheedle mode with Andrea in Admin. 'Listen, with all the co-pay for the vast amount of meds he is receiving, I don't know how he can keep up with those bills. I really do not. Isn't there something that can be done to get him an exemption for it? Because I really don't know how it can be done otherwise.'

Honesty is good, sometimes. She said she'd take it up with the director and would see what they can do. And bless my late Mom who always said, 'You got a tongue in your head... USE IT.' Still always my inner guide, hey, when things get difficult. We shall see.

My 'double' came as well, so I got him a mini hi-fi 'tower'. He'd sold off his fabulous one, kept the CD'S, and then didn't have anything to play them on, you see. And since he didn't have a radio in the room, but does have a wonderful tee-vee, that came from my account,

Of course they saw me lug it in, and I said, 'And this is my Christmas/birfday present for him, and explained. Juliana was there as well, and said, 'Hey... if only he'd said something.' I guess they have cheap ones lying around from deceased patients, but just the thought is creepy for me.

Just shrugged, and said, 'Na, that's ok. I was told by a doctor it would be good for him.' And it isn't as if it cost the world....

So it took me an hour to set it up, me being the most impractical clumsy idjit in the world when it comes to small motor coordination. And the instructions were unclear, and the diagrammes were so tiny I couldn't make sense of them at first. So I began muttering imprecations, Peter thought I was cursing at HIM, and he cried for the hour I put it together and tried to figure it out. Turned out to be easy... once you learn the gobbledy gook.

So I finally got the clock set, and figured out how to turn on the radio so he can listen to the 'morning journal' on Austria 1 radio in the morning, which he loves, and how to run the cd's, which was easy by that time....

There was some Föhn today, and he was depressed, and cried a lot. He said he was tired, and wanted to run away, roll into a pond and drown himself. So I had another lonnng talk with Admin, and asked, 'You know.... I think my visits are beginning to upset him more than they help. Should I do less?' She looked concerned. Thought. And said, 'No'.

I shrugged, and said, 'Well, they don't do me any good sometimes. If he gets all riled up inside and makes things more difficult for the staff, that won't help.' 'No. It does help.'

I guess they have enough patients who get dumped and are never visited. To think that till the beginning of July, we could talk about all sorts of things. Anything. But the acceleration of his decline since is so fast it freaks me.

Am not whining, just amazed. I'd hardly gotten home, a nurse called me and asked me to call him back. I'd asked Admin not to open his phone to allow outgoing calls, but allow for incoming ones. Because if he calls long distance every forty minutes just to ask, 'Are you coming to visit? When will you arrive?' he's gonna run up waay more debt than he already has. I had told Admin today... 'Ok... he's gonna wanna call every forty minutes, because he can't remember. So let's set up a routine here. I will be here every Friday, will arrive around 12:30, so that he can adjust better. So just keep telling him that, and will do it.'

Tja... between the Föhn and his increasing fears... it wasn't good. Günther was of the opinion that the CD player would be a very good thing for him, so why not, you know?

Leaving at four p.m, it was twilight already. Such light. And was thinking about people going into THEIR dark good nights. Next month it will be dark when I leave. It gets dark sometime after 3 p.m. There is a beauty in the landscape, the smells on the air, but it always sort of depresses me. And yet... it's sort of heart-stoppingly beautiful. I know I post a lot of photos from some of the same vantage points... but through the seasons, from March till now, there is always something 'different' from the last time.

And twenty minutes later, the sun had gone behind the hills,
had climbed up the stairs to the train station in Ehrenhausen, and the light was gorgeous.

Tja, on the road again.... it may be the same road all the time lately... but if you really LOOK... it's always different, somehow.

Weather variable to nice....

These are some of the last photos I shot. The Volksgarten on the 28th... love that light at this time of year.







The 29th wasn't so hot, and it got worse. The view from Peter's room...






Today is a horriday. November 1st, unofficially 'go to the cemetery day'. Dorle called this morning and asked if Peter was still in LKH, I said yes, and she asked about visiting him.

I said, 'I thought you have to do stuff at the cemetery.'

'The dead can wait, they're dead, after all. The living can't.'

Well, that IS true enough... She added that she had bought him a hair clipper machine. I was so thankful, he was beginning to look like Rasputin. So I explained how to find him out there, and said I'd be around about one o'clock, as usual, and she got him out of bed and onto a chair, and went to work on him. I said something about his 'fly-away' sparse hair and it took her a moment to process, but she cracked up over that.

And I said something like, 'This is scarier than Hallween. Who KNOWS what is gonna come to the fore and what's behind all that hair.'

I mentioned I was going to stop at Subway on the way home to pick up something to eat before I transferred to the bus. Dorle wanted to know where it is, and how it works. A light dawned. She said Günther had had his first one in Louisiana, of all places, told his friends he had eaten a Subway there, and they scoffed, and said, 'There ARE no subways there, let alone EAT one. Come ON....' So he told them what it was. (I have a sneaking suspicion that she scoped it out on her way home today...) Looks like Günther still has that devilish sense of humour after all these years.

She stayed for an hour and we were out in front of the building because it was mild, in the sinners corner for smokers. Dorle made a remark, and I said, this is stellar, you should see the one in front of the next building, it looks like a cage.'

I was grateful that she stayed. She had brought him an 80% chocolate bar with chili in it. I brought him two blueberry muffins from the bakery at the end station, so he was more than happy. I like the muffins, because they don't have much sugar, and taste very good. (He only gets those on Sundays and horridays because the supermarket is closed. Normally I bring him some fruit, or a low-cal 'samwich'.

Whatever, we had a nice chat altogether, and Peter didn't do one of his rants about nurses and meds. So he was having a 'good' day.

No talk about the North Sea or Rimini.... Bless her. I think it did him good.

Here we go yet again...

Didn't get to Gamlitz yesterday, because the head nurse called me to tell me they had taken Peter to Graz and had to be admitted as stationary patient there, so he called to tell me he was in the 'Erste Med', on the third floor.

The nurse had said he was in the angiology department, which is for heart, lymph system, and blood disorders.

However, I found him in the nephrology department, which treats kidney ailments. Have no idea what the hell is going on.... because.... I got to the room, and his bed wasn't there. (I really should be accustomed to that by now, but it always gives me the sinking elevator feeling for the first few seconds...)

Found a nurse, who told me he was 'downstairs' having an MRI of his foot, (sort of like a Cat-scan), and it would take quite a while. Well there is NOTHING I hate more than hanging around interminably in a hospital, have done it too much, so I just turned around, and rode back home.

Hardly got in the door, and there he was on the phone... apologising to me, for cripes sake!

Now normally, you can pretty much come and go as you please if you visit. But there are official visiting hours posted on that ward, so assume that during those hours, the patients will be in their rooms. So told him I would make sure to be there at one p.m. tomorrow.

Swell.

As a side note... the round trip per bus and street-car from my house to the hospital at the edge of the city took longer than a one-way trip to Gamlitz, which is about 45 kilometers away! The traffic! The packed tram full of little kids, giggling teenage girls, people going home from work, as there was a shift change at the hospital, it's always a nightmare. Will see if it is better tommorrow. Will avoid today's time slot, that's for sure.

Just a note... the kindness of strangers.....

I was on the way back from Gamlitz to Ehrenhausen yesterday. And normally, I'm fired up and make him laugh, because normally, I'm the only person on the bus, so I do my Ren shuffle to cheer him up, so to speak. It HAS to be depressing to have only one passenger on your bus, after all. He's sort of a Hippie at heart, I guess.... And I was quiet, not really in the mood for talking....

And he wanted to cheer ME up all of a sudden. He had been to see a concert John Fogarty gave in Graz. And flipped out. Big CCR fan, turns out. 'Man, what he DOES with a guitar, it was fantastic!' Well, we went from that to the idea that all the musicians MUST have been Americans, and I said, 'That's not true. When I was working, we had many groups in, and they were on tour, and the musicians were from all over the world, they just had to be good.' And he asked, 'How can they DO that?' And I said, 'Music is an international language, hey. It always works.'

You give a bit, and you get. I had to smile. I lurves me some wild-assed Austrians....

Yesterday, was on safari.....

It was my Gamitz day. Peter was looking nice but didn't feel well at all, it was hot and humid. A 'threat' of thunderstorm in the air....






The town is in the hot phase of being the best-flowered town in all the region, and it is beautiful. (It's a competition, and they win often....) Although the cornfields round about do not look well, and the husks are brown for dying... Too little rain....




And I stopped on my way back to visit for a couple of hours with two of the nicest people I know. Meet my ex-colleague Elke and her husband. I love this photo, because it was more or less a snapshot, just before we left so I could get my train. I guess I found the moment, because that is who they are. Gerhard's arm is still bandaged because he was coming home on his small motorcycle, and grazed a wall in an underpass not far away. We followed the way from the chaos at the train station to her house, and she showed me the trail of blood, 'that ate into the asphalt.' Austrians are very cool, they just shuck it off as if nothing happened. Annnd, I did what Austrians, do and said, 'What the HELL have YOU been up to?' They say that when misfortune befalls you, believe me, have been there often enough on the receiving end.... Just look at their eyes..... to drown in. Blogger isn't letting me format this as I would wish, but in this case, you take what you can get. It was like getting something soothing after a sunburn. Enjoy. Because it wasn't posed. They are off for vacation on Sunday.

Just when I thunk....

that peace and quiet would return into our lives.... I just had to go to Gamlitz today, because, Preciousses, it's Friday, and I want routine. Is that so big a thing to ask or wish for? It started as the trip from Hell. Today was the last school day for the children in our state. (I know that seems late, but they are on vac till well into September....) Not having had children, I never paid much attention. I just wanted to make sure my bus connection was going to run, because the kids got off early.

The train was packed, there were very pretty nubile teens, girls, I mean, and I got stuck having to listen to this DITZ going on and on, this is 'gay' that is 'gay', he or she is 'gay', I found it bloody insulting, and I've read that kids in the US do that as well, but was astounded that she actually didn't know what in the world she was TALKING about. Has to be 'cool', I guess, but it was difficult to have to listen to that ignorant little vixen.

And I kept praying, 'make her get off at the next stop, please, whomever...' But no, I had to listen to this crap all the way to Ehrenhausen, which encompasses forty unbearable minutes. I have no idea whatsoever how I was able to keep my mouf shut. I guess I have some sort of self-restraint left. But I should have known the day would only get worse.

But my chauffeur, aka bus driver regaled me with reports that David Hasselhof is in the area, and he was thrilled, I tell you, thrilled. And he so wanted to see this 'two meter' man in person, and didn't I think he has a wonderful voice. Hoo boy.... I don't know how many times I had to bite my toungue and stifle it today, I really do not.

Most Americans do not know this, but he is a super-star in our part of the world, am so not joking. I was not about to step on their star-worship or be insulting regarding what they think. I still haven't figured out Brittney Spears, so go figure. And if I remember correctly, my friend N got a trip to Prague as a sort of Tupperware prize, and saw him in Prague. And I inwardly rolled my eyes, thought what I thought, and kept my mouf shut. So, ok, he is one very big deal here.

And this guy went ON about how he would watch Knight Rider as a CHILD, and wanted to know what the title actually meant. I was spitting fire inside. Thinking, 'I am being so polite here, and now you are making me feel ancient? Please give me a break.'

But no, I was polite, and revealed that back then, I only had a small black and white tee-vee, and Peter would come to lunch, and the first thing was, 'Let's watch Knight Rider.' Which was irritating enough, although I didn't mention that part. And there was KITT, the talking car, I'm not even going to tell you NOW what I would think, but I will give you a hint, I lurved me some Goliath, the big bad truck.

So, you see where I am going with this? First the train with the snotty kids, then nearly ten minutes with a dyed-in-the-wool David Hasselhof fan... I knew right then, 'this day is going nowhere fast.....' So I finally got to Gamlitz, and since Monday went well, I was expecting peace and quiet.

Ya think. Juliana, the assistant director caught me in the hall, and asked, 'May I please have a word with you?' Cripes I hate that, because I KNOW, something unpleasant is in the making....

However, being polite can get you way more than 'Oh, WTF is wrong NOW?' Which was so what I was thinking.

Since Aunt Charlotte was here, Peter is absolutely terrorising the personnel, and he's really hostile to the people from Slovenia across the border, it borders on very inacceptable behaviour. And he has been telling everyone who will listen that he is gonna move out, and he will be in Wiesbaden, and his aunt will pay for it.

I don't have a poker face. Was so shocked I nearly lost my composure. And SHE was totally concerned and wanted to convince me they haven't been abusive to him. I just sank inside. As in 'elevator down, empire state building'.

And I said, 'Please STOP right there, I don't need to hear that, I KNOW that you are doing everything you can. I spent HOURS with his aunt and family, and I can tell you right here and now: they have nothing of the sort planned, and Charlotte wouldn't ever pay for his care, this is going purely in the direction of dementia. And I am so sorryI know how he can get, but he didn't used to be like that. And this is so painful to hear. But none of what he is saying is true, I would know otherwise. You met his aunt Monday, and she and her family can be critical, but they NEVER lie to anyone. They were pleased with all the standards you have, and they had a lot of questions, like the 'what-ifs', and I told them how it all works. And they were very satisfied that he is being well taken care of.

Otherwise it would have been my behind on the griddle, believe me.

Obviously his behaviour is totally unacceptable, and I am so sorry, I know how he can get.'

And she said, 'It's not YOUR fault.' And I said, 'No, it isn't, but I am going to try to stop this right now.' I used a term that won't make any sense, but is dialect, literally means 'I am going to set his calves straight' aka, set him in the right direction. She invited me for a corfee downstairs.

And then it began. The afternoon turned sorta into 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe'. Except I don't know who was Martha, and who was George, things get interchangeable, you know? And nota bene... I was reckoning back on the train home, and realised we have been in a relationship for 41 years. And in all that time, we have never really fought. We had heated disagreements sometimes, but we didn't ever really fight.

Well it was hot and humid today, and I heard what I didn't want to hear, because I just can NOT take another change to suit his deranged ideas, and I burst into the room, and yelled, 'What the Fuck Hell have you been DOING?' He denied everything, everyone is lying, and that isn't true, and I was one po'd SOB. And I spent a good quarter of an hour giving him the worst dressing down he has ever been on the receiving end from me.

I was outraged. And what was the end of round one? 'You don't support me, you believe people's lies, and quasi, am such a poor person.' That did it for the time being. Because I was very close to being violent. And I said, 'Y'know what? I am now going downstairs, and SMOKE. And you better think fast, because I don't believe one word of your BS.'

So I elevated downstairs, and asked Juliana if that offer for corfee was still valid, because 'I am SO going to need that right now.'

That cracked her up. And we had a very intensive twenty minute discussion, and not all of it was about Peter. I needed some very serious advice from her. And I explained what has been bothering me for nearly a week now, and she told me what to do. It's sort of dangerous. But it involves someone who... ok...

Y'know... I am never afraid of anyone. Never. People don't scare me. But I know someone whom I find terrifying, venal and I suspect he could be waaay violent. Everything about him is menacing, and he is a predator. Has nothing to do with sexual abuse, which is the worst of all things I could think of, but there are predators of a different sort. As in preying on the weakest people possible who are so helpless, and making them worse for profit. I saw something two days in a row. And was in an absolute impossible position. It was absolutely impossibly bad. And it was... hopeless, in the position I was in. You're in the nut-house, so zero credibility.

Just a note to y'all. If you meet someone for the first time with laser eyes so creepy, and they tell you without even introducing themselves that they do NOT like people talking behind their back as the first thing out of their moufs, you are in trouble. I put on my 'brave' face, and said, 'Mister, if I have something to say or complain about, I shove it right in their face, and tell them. Personally. And just leave me alone.'

So I can't just leave it and pretend that anything is hunky-dory. This has been weighing on me very heavily, since I saw it. I got good advice, and will follow it. Gawwd...

Sooooo... ok, was ready for round two. I hit him. Yeah, I actually slapped him in the face, bitch slap, so at that moment I was Martha. It shocked him. I have never hit him, but I don't NEED his BS at the moment. Now, THAT was inacceptable behaviour on my part, but I have NEVER been so furious with him. And it was inexcusable, but if someone pushes my buttons hard enough, I react oddly. Was ashamed of myself. I won't bore anyone with details of act two. I was just hurricane Ren. Gawwd, my bio-Mom's genes come to the fore when I least expect it.

Act three was interesting... I wheeled him down the street to a café for ice cream and by that time I ordered a beer, because my nerves were just frazzled. I never drink beer, ever. For over a decade now. I actually didn't like it, I just needed to calm down. And that is poor people's valium. I lit into him. Verbally. I said, 'Peter, I DO NOT get this. YOU want respect, but are running people down who work SO hard, and then you complain? I don't recognise you any more, you are so mean to the Slovenians who work there, (it's just across the border ten minutes away...) and they work really hard, and for less than an Austrian would demand. I have NOT seen one single thing that would lead me to believe that they are treating you badly. You have to show some respect, dammit. And y'know.... I don't recognise you any more, and you are going ON about them, they stole your mother's house forty years ago, or FIFTY? Where the fuck is your head. Serbians stole everything you had, and you lost YOUR house, and I lost the roof over my head, but I NEVER hear you going ON about THEM.'

'That was different.'

'Ach, REALLY? How so?, it was a few years ago not bloody decades! Please explain the difference, because I can't follow your convoluted way of thinking. I just can't. And if YOU think I am going to put up with another move... I'm done. I can't DO it, Peter, I can't. So make up what is left of your mind, ok? Let me know.'

As above, we have never fought, ever.

And a lot of people think I'm the candy with the soft center.

Everything in our lives have limits. Today, I hit mine. I'm a lover, not a fighter, and I disgusted myself, but I KNOW... there are times you have to be SO hard... it hurts. And it hurts very badly. It is inside me, but I never like opening that cage and let whatever is in there out.

I never write about this stuff as a rule.... today am angry, and vulnerable, and oh...

This is the best: I was home hardly a half-hour, and Peter called. 'I thought about what you said. I will try to do better. I'm sorry, and thank you for being here today.'

Uh-HUH. Thank whomever for small miracles.

Why is it that when I go there, I end up with a massive post, huh? Must be lack of input during the week and then I get a flood of it, I don't know.... I have so many things to decide at the moment.

How odd.

omg, omg, omg.....

As if it weren't bad enough having to bus over to Peter's to turn in his keys, at a time when they are already overcrowded with school kids, it's been friggin pouring rain in sheets. And at least the transfer going there was prompt enough, but it was a hassle.

I got there on time, and the movers were already waiting outside. So I had to explain who I was, 'a work colleague over many years...' (eeeewww...) And asked whom I was supposed to turn over the keys to.

The answer nearly knocked me on my ass: 'The Bailiff'. (In German it is 'Gerichtsvollzieher', had to look up the English term in a dictionary, but I knew what it meant...)

Oh cripes, I thought, I don't wanna mess with 'da lawz', no indeed....

I opened the apt, for them, dashed to open the patio doors and the windows, because it smelled completely vile. Just in time for 'The Bailiff' to arrive and ask me who the fuck hell I am.... I handed over all of the keys, and asked him if I were allowed to check Peter's post box one last time. (May I, not can I... manners mean a lot, so thanks Mom, wherever you are...)

Ominous things in there. Had to give him my full name, and it is always hilarious to me that they get confused, and I have to spell my family name. It is actually simple, but it stymies them as I would only be if it's a long polish one with nearly no consonants, and lots of sz's in it.

'Funny' things occurred, of the kind that only I can find amusing. Like being asked if I were going to take his wheelchair to him. Which earned him one of my infamous 'looks'. That thing is so messed up with bodily waste, the only solution is to burn it. When I caught my breath, I said, 'errm, no, he has one in the nursing home, and you are kidding me, right?'

Herr Lobwein on the other side of the hall came out, and his dog Rocco nearly attacked one of the movers, and Herr L., who is very choleric, attacked the guy verbally. The mover was visibly shaken, said the guy was insane, and had a pit bull. Which Rocco is not. And I said, 'Oh, you want to make a wide circle around them, especially Rocco.' This did not earn a grim smile.

Well, by then, my duty was done, and I wanted only to get out of there. And The Bailiff suddenly blocked my exit. 'What are you taking out of here?' he demanded to know. And I said... 'Umm... a breakfast sandwich that I lost my appetite for and Peter's post which you ALLOWED me to take.' Whereupon he actually blushed, and said, 'Excuse me, sorry.' And I said, 'That's ok, I understand.'

See, manners are miracle worker rules for not getting into trouble. And I DO understand. He's got no easy job, hey.

Leaving, two of the movers were complaining about the stench from the bed and wheelchair. And one of them said, 'Well, we're just going to have to clench our teeth and get through this.' At which point, I wished I were dead.

And I said, 'I'm so sorry, guys, that all happened just before his second heart attack, and he got diahrrea, and often couldn't make it to the WC. And that is one of the few things I couldn't deal with, cleaning it up.'

And you know what? THEY attacked ME. 'Hey! He couldn't help himself! He was so poorly off, and obviously helpless.' Well, make my day, why don'tcha.

But it is a nice trait that they would say that. Shows solidarity with poor people. Didn't mind taking that hit, to tell the truth...

So I got my last ride on the 34E to Jaki, the rain was pouring down, and had a ten minute wait for my transfer, and was not gonna get drenched, because even an umbrella is no protection in that sort of rain. So I did the unthinkable, and ducked into MacD's, and got a take out bacon and egg McMuffin. Which left me only two minutes to wait. And came home.

So... why the omg's up in the title? One sentence from The Bailiff: 'Where's the other stuff? He had help.' And THAT is when I got this sinking feeling I only experienced on the express elevator in the Empire State Building, going down. And that was only a rhetorical question to himself, not to me.

THAT is when the omg's hit. 'What hasn't he told me? As usual? What kind of trouble ahead, golramit? How could I trust him, and drag in my friends without an inkling that it might hurt them? Why does he DO this shit?'

Well, I did call Gamlitz as soon as I was in the door, and gave him a vicious tongue-lashing, and told him to clear it up, like yesterday, or I am NOT going to lift a finger for him ever again. Am just beyond angry, at the moment.

Yup, just another fine mess he's gotten us into, seemingly. And I want absolutely nothing to do with 'da lawz' here... Sheesh.

All I got was 'Thank you, thank you, thank you. Uh-HUH. That really doesn't cut it....

Hoo-boy-howdy, that was quick.....

Well, most of the fait-accompli is accompli. Dorle woke me at seven, as I had requested. Was up between two and four a.m., worrying about everything and nothing.

So I hauled my lily-white buns over to Buchenweg. And things started off wrong. The doors to the bank wouldn't open, so I could pick up some cash in the foyer. They normally automatically open at 6 a.m. when you get close enough to the sensor. Nope, nada. Blast it, stymied again.

The center of town is closed off today, a sport festival of some sort. So the bus routes changed, to my chagrin. Last Sunday, I had to wait thirteen minutes for my connection, and I planned to hit an ATM, run into MacD's, and bring everyone something for breakfast. (And I know two people who will gasp in amazement at that last planned action. Because they KNOW I abhor that place, wouldn't be caught dead in it if I can help it, and it would have been the first time in over twenty-five years. But would have done it... nowhere else to get anything at that hour on a Sunday morning in this 'metropole'. So, saved by the bell, or better said, bus.)

Ya think.... My connection was there and ready to roll. And I was cursing, 'fix-sakrament-hallelujah!' under my breath. That is usually what comes before 'summenabitch!', but I didn't have the luxury of time to get to that.

So I got to Peter's stop about five minutes to eight, and ran to the bank. Yes, RenB, who is so totally into the Churchillian philosophy of 'no sports', ran. I wanted to pay for the truck rental, gas, and the insurance for it for the day. It wouldn't have been all that much. And ran back, because not being punctual isn't an option.

So.... got the money, no breakfast for us, and was punctually there at eight, and there they all were. Dorle, her brother, her son, and Günther, who is doing spectacularly well. First they got a bit snippy, when I said I had to find Guido about the stuff in the kitchen, till they realised it was just about the kitchen block, and our beat-up table. They would have taken the table to his place immediately, but he said, 'oh no, I have to get my cleaning lady in first.'

(And I was thinking, 'hmm' not only paralysed, but not the brightest bulb in the chandelier either.') I got a glimpse of his appartment. This guy has been living in a social services appartment, a nice one, and there is nothing in it! NOTHING. I don't even know if he has a bed, for cripes sake. These appartments have a kitchen area, but they are unequipped. And he doesn't have lights! Just wires hanging out of the ceiling. Thank whomever that woman let me know.

So I had him in the kitchen, and get your mind out of the gutter... badly formulated... And I said, 'OK, here's the deal... I am totally incompetent at dismantling, and remantling a whole friggin kitchen. So YOU have to round up some friends who know how to do that, ok? And it has to be before June 16th. So you call me as soon as you can, and I will come down, open up, and make sure you get what you need there, ok? Here is my telephone number. I am home most of the time, ok? You call me.'

And he looked at me shyly, and asked 'How much will it cost?', nearly afraid, hey. And I said, 'Nothing but what you pay your friends to move it. Don't you read the newspaper? They moved Christmas to May, hey.'

He was pretty bewildered, and am willing to think he was thinking, 'Where is the catch, here?'

Whelp... there isn't one. And I hope whoever he rounds up knows about electrical things, because he's getting all the ceiling lamps. They were installed by Christian and Maria, and they are so ugly, you could just revolt. But the guy needs some lights there, demmit.

And he looked shyly into the living room, and asked if the tee-vee was going as well. Gawd, that killed me inside. And I said, 'I am so sorry, but that belongs to my friends, and they only loaned it to Peter after his died. I have no say.'

ooooo, that was difficult.....

So I went back to the living-bedroom, and Günther asked, 'What about the tee-vee? Does it stay here? We don't want it.' And I said, 'Well, I guess social services will get it. Unless you want to give it to the guy next door... Günther, he's got NOTHING in there.' And he said,

'Let's give it to him, with the little table underneath.'

So 'Guido' got the tee-vee. We went over, rang him out again, and I said, 'Thank you, Günther for helping me do my good deed of the day.' Cracked him up.

(I keep 'Guido' in quotes, because the name on the door seems to be Turkish. Almost no vowels, and sorta unpronounceable for Westerners. So I guess he tells people that to make it easier for them, ya know?)

And somewhere in the middle of all this which was going so fast it made my head spin.... Günther came in, and said, 'Someone outside wants to speak to you.' And I thought, 'Whaaa? I don't know anyone here', thought it was the 'pay it forward' lady. It was a lady with a walker pushing ninety. She asked if the apt. would be available soon. She's a bit deaf to boot. So I had to yell, which makes me uncomfortable...

I told her it would be after June 16th. She told me she had been living in the project for over forty years, but her place was on the fourth floor. (Walker, remember, and no elevators there...) So I yelled, you contact the administration office, and I hope they will give it to you. The bathroom is handicapped equipped, and I think you will like it in there.

All of this happened in ninety minutes, and clearing it out, forty-five minutes. I thought the fire department had come in on the charge, and whoosh.... it was gone.

So... yup. It's all gone. Some goes down to Gamlitz, the rest gets sold, if Dorle's son finds takers, and the deal is 50-50.

He provided a moment of inner hilarty in all this. I was giving away stuff that can't be sold, because he was looking at some stuff because it isn't a full set, turns it over, and said, 'Oh, Villeroy and Boch! Expensive stuff! I was in one of their WC's once. It was wonderful.'

That HAS to be one of the best non-sequiturs I have EVER heard, but I have an odd sense of humour, as we all know. And no, Preciousses, I was afraid to ask.

So ok, that was a lot to take in in forty-five minutes. Dorle and Günter are back to Salzburg today. Life will go on, and it's all sad, but a burden. And on the other hand, feel lighter, free. Doesn't make much sense, does it.

And I am so grateful for the help and kindness shown to me today, I could just cry.

It was, after all, OUR stuff. And Stuff can be a burden sometimes.

Tja... so the last of the Mühlgasse is gone. I guess at least I have the pictures to prove it, as John used to say. And none of the negatives... of the pictures of 'fun'.

That is what life is, I guess....

Peter was his usual cranky self when I told him about the woman who wants his apt. After hearing about the Guido thing. He started yelling at me. 'Gawwd dammit, Ren, do you KNOW how many people on the planet have nothing??? Nothing at all? You can NOT go running around messing in other people's lives like that.' Ooooo, he set me off. 'I didn't give him anything of your stuff, and the kitchen block was Maria M's work, and the table needs to be refurbished, wasn't expensive, and the state would take it anyway because it isn't WORTH anything, so get the fuck off my case, hey. It so happens that someone NEEDS it. And I don't run around playing Saint Ren. But it is also true that if you see someone in need, close by, and they need help, you give them a hand up. So I am NOT trying to save the planet. But I DO what I can to help my neighbors. So give it a fucking rest, hey.'

Yup, am just a charmer when I get crossed. He didn't have to unload all that 'stuff'.

Mensch. What was that below? I Hate it when he brings out my bio-mom's bad genes. And get emotional. And as everyone in a relationship knows, everyone knows what buttons to push.