Those sad anniversaries
Today has been 55 years that we buried my grandfather. Well, if I say we... I was 11 years old, in bed with the usual bad cold of the season, and thus the only one in the family who wasn't allowed to participate. I couldn't forgive the adults for that for many years to come. I was the favourite grandkid, the one my grandparents had from the age of 8 months or so, because Mum had to labour all day to get us all fed (Grandpa had a ridiculously small pension), and I couldn't even said good-bye.
The fact that I wasn't up to a November funeral health-wise didn't count in my 11-year-old heart. *sigh*
Otherwise, it was a busy day. I played "poisoned mouse" all morning again, and then was too drained in the afternoon to do anything of importance. At least I bought some craft supplies (because I have so little of those) and cut some card stock to the right size for the crafting I hope will happen tomorrow.
I watched some telly, but missed the solution of Richterin Barbara Salesch because of the stupid package delivery guy who managed to ring our bell, instead of that of our neighbours. In exactly the two minutes when the truth got revealed. *shakes fist at idiots who can't make a difference between the numbers 21 and 22).
I also had a long and unnerving phone conversation with some Vodafone lady, to renew our contract. These people are trained to rattle down technical details no-one else can understand; she was a bit taken aback when I told her that all this says me nothing, so would she, please, tell me in plain Hungarian what is going to change. In the end, it was very little, save for the price, but that only got raised by the equivalent of about 50 Eurocents, so it's not too bad. Still, I get a nervous breakdown whenever I have to deal with these people.
The fact that I wasn't up to a November funeral health-wise didn't count in my 11-year-old heart. *sigh*
Otherwise, it was a busy day. I played "poisoned mouse" all morning again, and then was too drained in the afternoon to do anything of importance. At least I bought some craft supplies (because I have so little of those) and cut some card stock to the right size for the crafting I hope will happen tomorrow.
I watched some telly, but missed the solution of Richterin Barbara Salesch because of the stupid package delivery guy who managed to ring our bell, instead of that of our neighbours. In exactly the two minutes when the truth got revealed. *shakes fist at idiots who can't make a difference between the numbers 21 and 22).
I also had a long and unnerving phone conversation with some Vodafone lady, to renew our contract. These people are trained to rattle down technical details no-one else can understand; she was a bit taken aback when I told her that all this says me nothing, so would she, please, tell me in plain Hungarian what is going to change. In the end, it was very little, save for the price, but that only got raised by the equivalent of about 50 Eurocents, so it's not too bad. Still, I get a nervous breakdown whenever I have to deal with these people.