Ordinary Life
Life for me is not all grand, exciting trips around the Scottish Hebrides, black tie dinners, and dramatic hospital recoveries. The black tie dinners have dried up now that I’m on much less prestigious projects – but less prestigious means far less stress and less having to work 6 days a week for 16 hours a day, and that was a change I embrace whole-heartedly. The hospital recovery had damn well better be a one-off. And although we do get to have trips around the Hebrides which I am hideously grateful for, we’re now settled in for a summer of being at home.
My life really is generally about the day-to-day logistics-daily life, making dinner, serving my function in life as She Who Must Throw the Gorby Squeaky Toy Because It’s a Game He Never Tires Of, and working. Work in itself is ok-my new projects are a bit busy but not stupid busy. I should work harder than I have been in the past few weeks (my colleague called me yesterday asking if I’d completed my technical requirements document. The truth is, I haven’t even written the damn thing. I told him it needed proof-reading and I’d send it to him later today. My lie has bought me time enough to whip something up, which doesn’t explain why I’m drinking cranberry juice and writing this blog post instead of writing my requirements doc.)
I really tend to lead a pretty normal, day-to-day life. I’ve been taking a lot of baths as they help ease my aches. My growing stomach doesn’t go underwater anymore, not in any way, shape or form. I know how Dolly Parton must feel now when she floats on her back. I light up some vanilla incense. which always makes Angus comment about our 190’s love child flower power pad and we resort to calling the bathroom “Helen’s Opium Den” for a short while, and if Angus is upstairs, as he has been lately while he rebuilds one of our three computers, then we talk back and forth. I always read a book in the bath, and sometimes chat about it with Angus.
“Hey! Wanna hear a vegetarian joke?” I call from the bathtub, having just read a joke in the book I’m reading.
“Is there such a thing?” he replies.
“Yeah! OK, so here it is! How many vegetarians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” I call.
“Ummm
Oh, oh, but you know what does explain it? Requirements docs are a total bore.
And I don’t think you’re being pompous in stating that you feel naked without your passport; if I were residing in a country in which I hadn’t yet obtained citizenship, I would not only feel naked without my passport, I’d feel as if I were walking around with ARREST ME painted on my back.
The sad thing is, if you were Muslim or some other minority, you’d probably be granted immediate citizenship. But because you’re a Bad White Female, you have to get the government reaming. Imagine if you were a guy.
So, when they ask if you if you speak English, tell them “I reckon so” in your most redneck Texas drawl, if you still can. Kinda like that Korean stand up comic that was born in Knoxville, Tenn. Oops, on second thought, you might get deported.
LOL I had similiar problems with my Dutch application recently – which they ****’ed up anyway. :) But my application was only 11 pages and I didn’t have to send in my passport, just copies of just about every document I could think of. Good luck! :)
Reminds me of when my Brazilian wife applied for temporary residence permit here in Denmark. Apart from all the information they wanted from her, I had to fill out a 15-page thing about myself, where among other things I had to document that I speak Danish. They also wanted to know if I had met my wife before, during and/or after our wedding ceremony. But at least we don’t pay a fee… :) My wife was also pretty displeased at having to give up her passport during the processing, in exchange for just a handwritten receipt, and without knowing for how long they’d keep it.
Gotta love those immigration applications. I still giggle every time I see the terrorism/genocide questions.
I felt more at the mercy of the gods when I sent my passport to the DVLA for the provisional license than when I sent it to the Home Office. At least the Home Office has a valid reason for needing it. The DVLA had my passport for 38 days (that whole provisional license process was a nightmare) and couldn’t understand why I was upset that they held it for so long and was fighting to get it back.
I love that you are cheap.
Helen said: “Plus I have to prove that I speak English”
This cracked me up! Why don’t you just send them the link to your blog?
Yeah, my sis always has a hard time too and she’s lived in London for 15 years, was married to a Brit for 6 and sometimes is a high tax-paying member of society.
She says trying to get to vote in the US elections, however, is the hardest thing in the world.
She has a hard time even though she is a woman (Dave) but Im sure the fact that she is black has nothing to do with it.
Julie-if they read how mental I am, they’d never let me stay :)
Tanis-I look at my UK driving license everyday and still-STILL, 6 months later-feel I owe some kind of ritual to some kind of god in thanks for it. Good luck!
Mike-you should’ve said no, you hadn’t met before, but when you showed up at the wedding you both promised to be the ones wearing red roses pinned to your collars!
I was wondering how you were on the flood issue, but figured you’d tell us…
The passport and visa thing? Seeing as they won’t let me out of Iowa, I have no experience. I live vicariously through the internet. :)