Square wave

Today was like a psychotic, schizmed, girlfriend. Picture her - ladies too please, even imaginary lesbianism will probably make this far more interesting for everyone. So: picture her, as someone who wakes you up in the morning by punching you in the face, before being stricken by remorse (remorse, above all emotions, gets the gold for leave literary characters "stricken". Silver goes to fear, and woe gets bronze) and making up for it by giving you (no...) breakfast in bed (family blog, you see). While you sit checking your email, tenderly probing your swollen (no...) nose, she does the washing up. She pauses her scrubbing as she picks up the frying pan, that deranged gleam flickers in her eye... ...and she spends the evening rubbing your (seriously...) feet and apologising profusely (similarly, is it just me or do only sound, colours, and apologies profuse?).

At this point I should clarify that this imaginary girlfriend is completely, utterly fictional, and is in no way based upon any person, especially not my girlfriend, who is a picture of rationality. Except for that sinister rag doll. With my photo and hair on it. That nearly killed me when I sat on it. Kidding, of course (but now I'm wondering: why do voodoo people always use their dolls for harming people. Surely an atomically correct doll could be, say (no no no, for the love of criminy! Family blog!...) used for remote massage therapy or similar?

Anyway, I will try to illustrate this metaphor with a point. I was awoken this morning at 8:30, which would be reasonable but for my retiring a scant three hours earlier. I had asked Agathe to ring me, to make sure I was awake, so I could get my tax card for the new year. This made today a bit like Christmas in reverse - your excitement stems from anticipating how much you're going to loose. We were going in early to beat the queue.

I wobbled along on my bike slightly aware that the old motor skills weren't quite up to par, at perhaps too brisk a pace, when a dawdling old dear on a rusty old bike plus the sudden manifestation of roadworks where roadworks were clearly undesired, caused me to have to brake very hard in a narrow space. The handle-bars caught on a barrier, then thoughfully halted my flight by digging into my thigh. Profuse language and bruising ensued.

Feeling really chirpy now, I pulled up at the tax office, and took a ticket, preparing for a wait of eons, to find that I was next in line, joy! I beamed at the clerk, who smiled back and informed me that, since I'm being taxed on a whole years income now, rather than 5 months, my tax rate had doubled.

I moved on to work, and from there to town at lunchtime with Agathe. I had steak. It was a good steak as steaks go, and as steaks go it went (ah, Saki...). With it went a good conversation, some cheesecake, and an espresso (while a portion of our income is still disposable), and my bad spirits. Feeling much better I trundled off to a travel agency to procure a visa for myself and Alex's jaunt to St Petersburg to see REM specifically, and the city generally.

I met a very nice lady, who explained that one needs official (ie paid for) accommodation in order to get a visa, one can't just kip on the floor of a friend of a friend. This meant our planned four day trip would cost me in excess of €250. Oh. Back at the office, Alex followed up leads furiously (a visa takes 6 working days, I needed it in 6 working days, and 5pm was approaching) until we discovered a "visa agency". These wonderful people will provide you with a visa, and a reservation at a somewhat insubstantial hotel in return for 55 coins.

Feeling like I should get the rest of the day over with as soon as possible, we headed for something to eat. On the way I noticed an ambulance careen through traffic to pull up outside a cafe I've been to - full of young yuppie types in general. Perspective.

So I guess the moral of the story is: your girlfriend may strike you, but better her than cardiac arrest. Or something. Sorry, I'm shattered!

Home to bed!

Oh, PS: self and LongHairGuyInTexas have official formed a mutual appreciation club. Visit! The power of Chris compels you (weaker, but cheaper than, Jesus).

PPS: The smashing picture of a locomotive in Hedonists blog runs with the caption: "Put item in cart" and refers to the imminent auction here in Helsinki, of said locomotive. In pristine working condition, a snip at €900,000.