Last weekend, I wrote and sent a whole pile of Christmas cards.
This morning I got a message from my mum: “Received empty envelope from you. Did you forget to put the card in?” I wrote all the cards then had Jan sign them, after which I distinctly remember taking each card and placing it in its correct envelope (which I had previously addressed). At the end, no cards were left over, and since I had opened each card to compare the name inside with the name on the envelope it’s unlikely that one card ended up inside another so that two went in the same envelope. No stray cards have turned up here since, either. Nevertheless, my mum has no card. My brother’s, which went to the same address, has arrived perfectly fine. So where is my mum’s card?
Did the envelope somehow come open en route and lose its card only for some good samaritan at the post office to seal it again (without noticing that the envelope was, in fact, empty)? Does my mum have a postman with a fetish for cards with other people’s names on? In which case, why did my brother’s arrive… did the postman not like his name? Why would anyone steal a Christmas card… that’s all that was in the envelope. No money, no chocolate – just a card with a pretty picture on the front. Am I being censored? And if so, what exactly do they think “Hope 2013 is the best year ever!” is code for? It’s a mystery!
Why do so many people here feel the need to run across the road in front of trams? I’m sure you’re in a big hurry, but trust me, getting hit by a tram isn’t going to get you to your destination any quicker…
Speaking of trams: why does the display thingy insist on telling me my tram is coming “sofort” (immediately) when it is nowhere in sight and will clearly not be turning up anything like ‘sofort’
Why does my kitchen still smell weird even though I’ve taken the rubbish out?
Why do I have almost not of my wages left already when the month has only just started?
Why has the translation book I ordered for 30 euros which Amazon claimed should be here by 30th October not arrived yet? (Question for my UK readers, if I actually have any – surely you can’t all have gone off to France and Korea?: Is Royal Mail on strike? That might explain it…)
Why is my wash basket so full?
Why are crisps so addictive?
Why is my flat so cold?
Why are so many people I know pregnant? (Every time someone gives birth another person makes the “expecting” announcement. It’s madness!)
Why do all men’s sock look the same, except for tiny differences in the shade and the size of that little band at the top? I spent an hour last night sorting out Jan’s socks. And no, I’m not exaggerating. Seriously.
Why does he even have that many pairs of socks anyway? Who needs that many pairs of identical socks? If they were at least interesting socks I might be able to understand it, but they’re all black. Or grey. Or navy blue. And in the electric light it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between the black and the navy blue ones.
I think in future I might save up all his clean socks and make him sort them out.
That’ll learn him… 😉