grumping

I'm beginning to think flowers for American postal workers may not be such a bad idea.

I mean, I know it's a lot to ask, but I really like it when someone, like, tries to help you find the answer to your question. Of course, if you're paid by how many people you can get served, and it doesn't matter to you whether they're served well or not, I can understand why you're trying to get rid of me after I've stood in line with a number waiting to see you. After all, I'm not your problem.

The thing that makes me mad is that I let them make me feel like I'm an intrusion on their time. Why do I do that? Apologize for the fact that I'm providing them with a job, and not really get my question answered because I've let them make me feel stupid?

Okay, sorry. But my permesso di Soggiorno expired today, and even though I knew I couldn't renew it until it expired (yeah, you heard that right), I still panicked a bit--what if I misunderstood? Could I get kicked out of the country? So I went to the post office, pressed the button that said it was supposed to help people get their permesso renewed, and waited patiently behing P80-P92. I made use of my time, though, and studied the Italian word for "crayon" on the packages for sale. It's...oh, never mind.

So then the woman says to me, no, you need to take this to one of the political parties and they can help you. There's one on Via -----. You know where that is? No? Well, you need to go there. Bye.

So I panicked some more, but remembered that God has provided me with a friend who used to work in a questura and is married to a Carabinieri officer--I called her, and she asked him, and he said I have 60 days. So I'm not panicking now.

And then I went to the Neris' and we made chocolate chip cookies and sushi! What an international meal. The only problem we had was getting the oven to stay lit. And Carlo decided he needed to test the cookies from the different batches to make sure they were all okay. He reminds me of someone else sometimes.

While I'm on things that annoy me: I had a new student Wednesday. I asked her a question, and she looked at me blankly. I repeated it, and she turned to the other girl in the class and said (in Italian), "I can't understand anything she's saying with that pronunciation."

Whoa, I told her--you can complain about my pronunciation if you like, as long as it's in English and you're talking to me. I know I don't speak "English English," and I know I have trouble understanding people from different parts of Italy, but I don't tell them it's their fault for not speaking Italian the way I learned it. Reminds me--I think I read an article once on why the difference between American and British pronunciation? Like, that American was more standard until things changed in Britain, and ours is really older? Or am I making that up?