Bit of a wasted morning.

Mind you,  I suppose one could argue that any time that I spend with Travelling Companion is anything but wasted,  but still.

Today was the day to pick up our new Residence Permits.  “Aufenthalterlaubnisse”.    I think I spelled that right.  My written German isn’t quite up to snuff I’m afraid, and my spell check program freaks out with German words,  so it’s of little help.

Originally,  we had the idea that we’d go to the Immigration Office on Tuesday morning,  but as you may recall,  T.C. had to go up the country to meet a couple “Grands Fromages”.   So that wasn’t going to work. 

Hang on a sec:

 

 

OK,  got that out of my system.  Sorry, as soon as I think “up the country”,  my mind wanders.

Where was I?

 

Right.

Great tune though,  eh?

Now,  if we had really given it much thought,  going to the MA35 (the immigration office) on a “Bridge” day,  or as we would call it in North America,  a “floater”  (no toilet jokes, please) we just might have figured out that not only do a lot of Austrians take this day as a holiday along with the Thursday,  but of course,  an exponentially large number of migrants not having to work today just might decide to show up as well.   The place was mobbed.   And I mean,  not just to the point where there were no more places to sit,  but it was getting a little tight in the standing room only department as well.  By the way,  there have to be at least 200 chairs in this place. 

Oh boy.

If there were some sort of system in the way your number gets called,  or goes up on the reader board,  then at least we might have had a clue as to how long it was going to take.   I’m afraid to say,  it’s kind of random.  So it could have been 15 minutes,  of we could have been there until noon time.  No way of knowing.

I try not to complain in these situations,  since I just figure there’s always a certain amount of sh*t I have to put up with,  with *waiting* being the story of my life,  but T.C. wasn’t going to wait.  Not only was she having to stand,  and we know how painful that gets to be,  but waiting around in that mess was just foolishness.   Oh, and by the way,  remember what I said about folks taking this day off as well?   See,  that was the additional little bit of aggravation when we found out from our lawyer lady that there were in fact only THREE officials on duty to handle the mob,  all the rest had taken the day off!   We agreed to go back on Monday,  and promptly left.

 

On a slightly more positive note,  just last night we had been mulling over the idea that we’re really and truly getting “sick of eating”,  and thought it might be nice to perhaps have something a little different.  

So look what I found after I dropped off T.C. at the salt mines!

 

I don’t know if we’ll have tacos,  or tortillas,  or is it fajitas?  All I know is,  when I found all this stuff, I decided right there and then that I was loading up.  Whatever we don’t use will keep.  

Mind you,  I just noticed that the salsa has “hot” right there on the front.  Ruh-roh.   We’ll see how that goes. 

I probably should have got more taco shells. Idiot.  Drat.  Oh well.   Maybe we’ll mix it up.

So I went out after lunch and grabbed a few more things to add to the list of ingredients for tacos.  You know,  cheese,  lettuce,  tomatoes,  sour cream.  I already picked up some ground beef from Radatz this morning.

 

I mean,  I can make a half decent chicken soup, along with a few other items,  but after a while everything just starts to play like a broken record.

 

Anyhoodle.  (oh, rhymes with noodle)  I also have to put in this pic that I snapped this morning on the way back from the parking garage. 

See,  here’s the thing.  T.C. has said in the past how she feels sorry for some of these beggars.  I realise that it’s probably a character flaw of mine but I,  on the other hand,  do not.  

This fellow usually sits with his coke bottle glasses on,  rocking to and fro,  looking for a hand out.   When I went by this morning,  he was talking on his cell phone. 

I think I have a problem with that.  

 

Oh,  and he was perfectly still.  No crazy-assed rocking to and fro like some nut job.

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

When it comes to buskers,  I have a different view altogether.   I’ve been known to pull out five bucks and hand it over.  But you’d better be good.  That’s all I ask.   If I can play guitar better than you,  I’m not giving you any money. 

One time I recall (like it was yesterday)  we were on our way to a ball game in Toronto,  and there were these three musicians on the “Sky-walk”,   and if I had brought along a chair with me,  I would have just stayed right there.   They were awesome!  It was only the fact that the rest of my family were waiting for me to go with them to the game that got me away from there.   I don’t even remember the ball game.   The Jays probably sucked,  as they have done for about the last twenty years,  but those three guys,  man they were good!

There was a chick out here on Mariahilfer playing the violin a couple months ago.  I waited around a bit to see if she got any better.  She never did.  I kept my money.  That’s the way it works.  If you need to go back for lessons,  or worse yet,  if you’re tone deaf?   Oh please.

 

I’ll keep my character flaw and my loose change,  thanks.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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