Before streaming phones I'd wake up placidly, more or less, calmly anticipating going online at my leisure at some electronic depot a-la-java, preferably not one violating the spirit of anti-trust legislation. Often, almost first thing, there'd be some barista challenging me to put cash on the burlap before reception so's Mr. Coffee can pays the rent. Bitter women the worst of them. Imagine that, setting up a competition for a cup of coffee, for crying out loud, when all you used to have to do was casually have a seat at the counter, coffee and water de rigueur.
Talk about getting one's ya-yaas oot. To the grave we go! God save the Republic.
Me belong Francesca. Ain't nobody gonna tell me different. Don't matter whatever.
A hoot and a half. Took a year of German so I could read the journals. Vocabulary not bad but Holy Hannah the grammar was gymnastic! You had gender, then cases, then punctuation and syntax. And no slide rule to figure it out! I mean like it was arbitrary. Some objects male, others, of course, female, but the kicker was the neuters like 'book' where some things you'd think were in one category were one of the above then, what do you know but a malelingo thing was visa-versa - or neutered. (So here was three categories; Kant presented four... another story.) Carrumba! After four years of uninhibitedly studying Spanish, had meself a DD year. Devastated!
Nonetheless undeterred, thought of alternatives. Something came up, sidetracked.
Perpetually undeterred and totally confident on account CREDO... what a country! Do not mess.
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