Well... the scene is set, and what a weekend....

It began so well, you know? Invitation to an informal gathering with my new neighbors, salad, wine, and fun. I've been a hermit for so long, it was very nice to vent, and they were gracious and funny, and young and beautiful and talented.

Then I got stubborn at two thirty in the a.m. and decided to get sniggarettes from the machine across the square. Oh yes, I need that first one when I get up and hit the WC. And it was so late, and was so ruminating on the evening...... I forgot to take my bank card out of the machine.

It never turned up. So I blocked it this morning, and was down to my last 3 Euros, it was Saturday, and I was supposed to get food for the weekend. Man, was I pissed off. The foreign legion guy lent me enough to get by on. I've lent him money, and he always paid it back---unlike some people I have known, btw.

Sunday I went to see my favourite former colleague, who is back from vacation, humple in on my cane, and she looks at me and says, 'May I help you?' She didn't recognise me right off in a polo shirt, jeans, and a beard. So I give her my 'LOOK', and her eyes widened, and then everything was ok. Stayed for a coffee and give her a dvd to watch, we got caught up, but my foot was killing me. I hadn't walked that far in a long time.... She was all over me like hot soup.

Whatever, I had so overdone it going up there, I could only stay a short time at Peter's and ended up in bed for the rest of the day.

Today I got my bank thing taken care of, and had the usual aggravation at Peter's. GAWWWD
EVERYONE KNOWS YOUR BIZNESS. The postman wanted to know if he was getting a new appartment for the handicapped, because he saw the contract when he delivered it, and 'mentioned that he had put it in on Friday, and he hadn't picked it up yet, and the 75 year old Walter, who is nice and in the building across the way and his television goes all night (you can see the blue flashes if you are insomniac in his wqindow, but is never loud...) stops me in the supermarket and wants to know who the man in the wheelchair is that I often wheel around, and what the hell happened to my foot. We spoke pleasantly, but it creeps me out. Am never so curious, and only know that he watches tv all night because I am often sleepless, look out the winder, and see the light flashing down there. The only thing I know about him. Pleasant, says hello, am friendly, say hello, and that is IT.

Ok, am not a paragon of discretion, true. People can get you to talking, and boy, howdy, I can say the next day, 'ooooh, why did you say that?' But it was my shit that I wanted to impart.

And tomorrow, I have to go to this shit BUNKER of a hotel and officially apply for a job. Which meant gettting myself half-way presentable. I don't want to work there. So I had to go to Enver after lunch, my barber, hair person. He does NOT like my goatee, which is nearly all white now, but I like it.

I told him, we have to do something about the beard, and he said hopefully, 'shave it off?' And I said, 'NO, just get it into SHAPE! I don't know HOW...' He did a wonderful job. And I watched what you have to do, so that I can keep it that way. But only having been shaved once in my life before, it still weirded me out. He is very, very careful. And when he lathers up the soap and gets out the straight razor, and leans you back..... All I get in my teeth fillings per radio is 'Pretty Women'. Watched Sweeney Todd four times before borrowing it out, so not unusual. But I never knew what a pleasure it is just to lean back, and trust someone to go at you with a straight razor, and leave the rest of your face and neck as smooth as a baby's arse. My Bics have never done that, that is for sure.... I neet the toilet paper for the nicks, and when you pull it off, it bleeds again. Although it feels very vunerable when that straight razor plays about your Adam's apple.

It was the second time, and he seemed morose about it, but I was very pleased. So I said, 'Thank you, this is very nice.' 'You have to come back next week. Summer cut. You have beautiful hair.' Now what was THAT all about?

Und Jeebus Fucking Christ on a Donkey, hey. My hair is nearly all white now. Thanks to people who shall not be named.... But what the fuck, he deals in hair, what the hell do I know????

Whatever, the scene is set, I go to the fucking interview, and get tanked.

But I will be 'presentable.' Except, at the moment, I still can't get around without a cane. Now THAT will make an impression..... Not. It gets a little better every day, however. And is so painful... At least most of the swelling has gone down and I can take the bus.

And get my signature so they do not cut off my unemployment.