Finally reconnected with the universe!

I’m back! And, let me tell you, it has been an uphill battle to get here. NEVER BREAK YOUR MACBOOK IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY. Seriously. Don’t do it. Don’t even read this, lest for some reason your Macbook gets any ideas of dissent…Keep your macbook in line. Tell it who’s boss. Remind it that it would be nothing without you, only a shitty piece of scrap metal with radioactive poison inside. Remember: you bought your computer. You own it. If need be, smash other machines in front of it: fans, cell phones, old radios. Bring it to visit a junkyard and whisper gently “This is where you’ll end up someday.” Whatever it takes.

After a week of battling computer repair “professionals,” I finally acquiesced and ordered a new laptop from the US. A day later, I received a message in Polish asking me to fill out some forms (in Polish, of course). Then a separate email the following day with more forms providing the exact same information. Then a phone call saying my package is being held in custody until some customs fees are paid. Then a form for customs fees. Then another phone call. Then, for some reason, I find out my computer isn’t coming after all. At this point, I rallied an entire team of Polish speakers from both sides of the ocean to come to my rescue, led by the valiant and honorable Henryka Manes. Henryka—I love you. My mother loves you. Everyone who has to interact with me loves you, even if they don’t know that you are the source of my tolerance and wisdom. All I can say is that, if karma is real, you will have your pick of the litter in your next life. Supermodel/brain surgeon with a bestselling novel and a Nobel Peace Prize? Consider it done.

The only good I can say came from the experience (other than Henryka’s karma upgrade) is my newfound appreciation for the tragicomedy of the Absurd. Polish bureaucracy has allowed me to understand why we should talk to each other in trash cans or buried up to our necks, waiting for someone that will never arrive. Such activities now seem utterly sane and productive after dealing with Polish postal services. Beckett was probably just waiting for a delivery from Polska Poczta. It would explain everything.

Brought to you by Polish Postal Services

Anyway, now that I’m back I will post the many, many entries I’ve written by hand in the past four weeks, but had yet to transcribe onto my computer. Don’t worry: I’ll pace them out so you don’t feel overwhelmed and stop reading altogether. But we have a lot of ground to make up, and little time. So, with no more ado, let's go back to mid-September…