(no subject)
Blah. Too warm to do anything, let alone work.
I've finished my general work (updating database with new addresses, sent to me by mail or found online), but now I had to start calling people. Speak the naval tongue, sorta speak. How the hell should I know what this company does? They call it "dry chartering", "forwarding" and "freight contracting". I call it "that thing they do with the shipsies". And boy, are those Brits grumpy this day and age. Plus, I hate calling people for stuff like this. "Could you be so kind to send us your address and contact data? Blablabla." Most people hate you for calling, too. They're all friendly enough, but you notice by their non-existant sense of humour that they really could care less. And I'm funny, damned!
The walk to the station this morning took considerably longer since I had to take my suitcase along (the lady I was housesitting for comes back today) and it was damn heavy. How come I always go home with way more stuff than I originally packed? I didn't buy anything this time and still it was hard to even close the damn thing.
But well, my day started out great anyway: got up at five thirty AM cause I couldn't sleep anymore. I was stressing out about how long it would take to clean the appartment and that maybe if I got up later, I wouldn't be able to do it all. I was right, I finished with only half an hour to spare (I was going to get up over an hour later originally).
And it took forever before I got that suitcase into a damn locker at the station... Of course, those things don't take bills, of course the man at the desk gives me the wrong change, of course I have to bother some poor guy to ask to change said change, which made no sense at all. And of course the bus was ten minutes early and I was damn lucky not to have missed it.
Btw, what is it with buses in Antwerp? Usually they arrive around ten minutes early and if you're not there, you're screwed, basically. Good thing I came early the first day and noticed this, otherwise I would have missed my bus ten times over by now... Weirdos. Never living here, not if I can help it. (Of course,
nevel, my sister loves it here, so don't be intimidated by my comment ;D)
And the dinner with the guy I haven't mentioned yet? It was good. Nothing major happened, but some small hints were given and received. I sensed he's not in the right state of mind yet, but he might be sometime in the future. So I'll sit and wait. But meanwhile Damien Rice keeps popping up in my head. It's kinda funny.
Anyway, got another hour and a half to fill, I think I'll do some more phone calls across the Channel.
I've finished my general work (updating database with new addresses, sent to me by mail or found online), but now I had to start calling people. Speak the naval tongue, sorta speak. How the hell should I know what this company does? They call it "dry chartering", "forwarding" and "freight contracting". I call it "that thing they do with the shipsies". And boy, are those Brits grumpy this day and age. Plus, I hate calling people for stuff like this. "Could you be so kind to send us your address and contact data? Blablabla." Most people hate you for calling, too. They're all friendly enough, but you notice by their non-existant sense of humour that they really could care less. And I'm funny, damned!
The walk to the station this morning took considerably longer since I had to take my suitcase along (the lady I was housesitting for comes back today) and it was damn heavy. How come I always go home with way more stuff than I originally packed? I didn't buy anything this time and still it was hard to even close the damn thing.
But well, my day started out great anyway: got up at five thirty AM cause I couldn't sleep anymore. I was stressing out about how long it would take to clean the appartment and that maybe if I got up later, I wouldn't be able to do it all. I was right, I finished with only half an hour to spare (I was going to get up over an hour later originally).
And it took forever before I got that suitcase into a damn locker at the station... Of course, those things don't take bills, of course the man at the desk gives me the wrong change, of course I have to bother some poor guy to ask to change said change, which made no sense at all. And of course the bus was ten minutes early and I was damn lucky not to have missed it.
Btw, what is it with buses in Antwerp? Usually they arrive around ten minutes early and if you're not there, you're screwed, basically. Good thing I came early the first day and noticed this, otherwise I would have missed my bus ten times over by now... Weirdos. Never living here, not if I can help it. (Of course,
nevel, my sister loves it here, so don't be intimidated by my comment ;D)
And the dinner with the guy I haven't mentioned yet? It was good. Nothing major happened, but some small hints were given and received. I sensed he's not in the right state of mind yet, but he might be sometime in the future. So I'll sit and wait. But meanwhile Damien Rice keeps popping up in my head. It's kinda funny.
Anyway, got another hour and a half to fill, I think I'll do some more phone calls across the Channel.