Still working on that connection. It is frustrating, but hopefully the end is in sight.

Or- rather- the beginning.

I stayed off of my foot as much as possible on Saturday. I just hobbled over to the train station to get the big Saturday papers. And then I hobbled back.

On Sunday my foot still throbbed and was swollen, but the weather was so lovely and my garbage was piling up.
I decided to dump my garbage. I have to walk a few blocks to do this, but I find it remarkably fascinating, for I have never used an underground garbage container before.

It is a pleasant walk. A short distance away from the studio, across the street, is a cat-house. I kid you not. Run by two women of easy virtue. It is legal here, you know. I always glance over to see if I can see anything illicit going on, but I have yet to. Just a neon sign that is either on or off, flashing * Open* or not.

Then on my side of the street, I pass *The Grass Company*. That is legal here too, but you need some sortof club card to get in . They have big, burly guards standing outside to check the passes, who all look like they eat garlic and babies for breakfast and polish their shaved heads faithfully twice a day.

Then Mummy Dearest really shows her rube roots : the garbage container, pit, whatever. I am constantly surprised and pleased when it works, for I haven’t a clue how it does. I have this card- sans bar code- and I hold it over this smoky glass plate. Then I push a button that says start. There is no light like a scanner has going over the plate. Then there is a click and I can open the lid and dump the trash.

It is those little things…

This laptop ( plus a new recharger, remember ? 76 euro !) arrived here on Friday.

I put it on the floor and sat behind it, trashing spam and checking a few places out. I do not know why I decided to put the laptop on the floor, perhaps it was out of habit after all of those hotel toilets. I have a perfectly fine garden table ( complete with a salvaged Army Navy tablecloth) I could have used. Maybe I just thought the laptop would be safer on the floor, couldn’t fall, dontcha know.

And then I had to see a man about a horse, tinkle, go to the powder room. I stood up and my left foot was as dead as a doornail. But when you gotta go, you gotta go. It flopped this way and that way and then the wrong way and I thought *Drat*.

I briefly wondered why limbs fall asleep and then wondered how ducks could sleep when they were on the water, their heads tucked under a wing. In theory, they should sink like bowling balls. And then I wondered what on earth I was going to do during the night. *Darn*
For you see, I sleep in a loft over the kitchen, complete with a ladder. Being of a more mature vintage, I usually have to see a man about a horse once or twice in the wee hours.

*Fudge* I thought to myself.

If I do not post or answer mails, it is because I have a very moody internet connection. And then the recharger for this laptop went out- 76 euro, I heard. I was supposed to feel guilty about this, but I do not. Why on earth would I ? Should I ?

I think that I am on the right path. I do really like staying in *The Big City* . I go out at 10 ( although I get up at around 5 am) and buy a paper and then in the afternoon I just amble around outside. I really wish that I had a camera. I stop and read the inscriptions on monuments, look at the fabulous brickwork on the buildings, the tiles…. and I think a lot.

I slipped through a crack in The Father’s temper.At times, I still wonder what is true and what is not, and yet I have a number of scenes in my mind that I know were true and never should have happened.

Take- for example- the night of the fire. The 28th. We had the best Christmas ever. Everyone said so. The Father had been sniveling and whining about everything as usual, but as I sat in the kitchen one morning, behind this very same laptop and thought -fuck it. No one knows when their last Christmas will be and so every Christmas should be special.

And it was perfect. Right down to the wrapping paper and the order in which people received gifts.

On the 28th, I was finally dead tired of the girls squabbling over The Sims 3. A game. Baby had the only computer that could run the game and she did not want The Girl on her computer. I did not blame her,The Girl does not understand the word privacy and we all know that. It is why I never set up my PC again, after August- I was tired of her hacking into my mail.

But I was more weary of the squabbling. And so I suggested that we set my PC and external up in the Playroom. And that is what we did, in the late afternoon. That was a great external, one of those 1 TGs or TBs or something. It had space to die for . Iomega.

I started the laundry. It had piled up over the holidays. I started dinner. I am running up and down three floors of house. I connected up the computer, the external and all those other things that one must connect to make a computer run. This is not my specialty. In fact, it is a family joke that I am good with software, hopeless with hardware.

It is finally all set up. The Girl is in the bath, The Baby and I are ready for business. I want The Sims 3 to install into H, the external. The Sims 3 is designed to install into C, so I had to figure that sucker out, while starting the potatoes on the first floor.

Girl out of bath.

I am getting frustrated. Baby and I smell something like melting plastic. We sniff around the whole playroom, but it seems to be coming from the corner where the computer is plugged in. Dust, I thought.

I want a cigarette. Do not respond. There is no ashtray in the Playroom, so I ask The Girl for an ashtray ( she has been smoking since she was knee high to a grasshopper) and she says no. I can see through her open door that she is using one of my Tunisian bowls as an ashtray.

And I walked to the door to her bedroom to get it and she punched me in the gut.

Dinner was made, eaten and then Baby went to check out how The Sims was doing.

And there was a fire.

In the laundry room.

I left. I left Casa Kitchen.
I have abandoned my children. Imagine that.
I still cannot.

When I was younger, like High School, everybody wanted to be famous. This was a very alien thought to me- look what happened to Elvis.

I wanted to be anonymous. Privacy is extremely important to me. Privacy is freedom.

I have some very dear internet friends, trying to help me, but the best thing to do is to never, ever link to me. I do not like publishing links, because I know about stats and I could care less about them.

I love the Internet, it is the biggest library in the World. It is like wandering up and down the stacks of a library, in the basement, and finding the old magazines with photos of Scott and Zelda.

But I do read the fine print. I am , by nature, curious. Used to drive my parents nuts. I am a font of trivia- the cherubs come to me all of the time, and I ask, what am I, Soogle? But I do indeed, usually know the answer. I know why the grass is green.

The point of the matter is that while The Internet is indeed a font of information, it is becoming Big Brother.

When our house burned down, Google maps was used by the press. I know this, because I am very good with Google. If you look at an aerial view of our house, it looks like two houses.I really hate to say this, but think Anne Frank. We have two roofs. Technically, the back roof is the Achterhuis. The press was reporting that two houses were in danger. And people were actually jumping over the two meter high brick wall in our garden to take photos, to *tweet*,  you can actually buy a video of our house on fire for 10 euro. They were kind enough to send me a free copy. It is on YouTube as well. Imagine that.

I cannot tweet. I am far too long winded. And Facebook, read the fine print. Google is getting too big for it’s britches- again, read the fine print.

Now, this is rather unladylike , but I am sitting next to a toilet bowl. I get the best connection here. And- I blush- I have the runs. And I am supposed to carry this Nokia 6021 with me where ever I go. Why ? Why should I be available when that explosion hits ?

I have been reprimanded for my need for privacy while I publish on THE WORLD WIDE WHATEVER, but I have always stated that my point was to preserve the cherub’s youth.

They are coming here all of the time, looking at photos.

Please , just read the fine print.

In a few days, I have to make two moves. On Monday, I will end up in my new * room of my own*.  To solve the internet business, I have to make new friends, but keep the old.

I might be off line for a while.

Piece of cake.