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Ball of zuurdesem



Tewerkstellingsvergunning — but not really...


Autumn 2004, Nijmegen The Netherlands —

I went out to see Jan. I'd thought I was invited for dinner, but no. I'm cooking some food now, an egg in water so far; spaghetti and cheese to follow. His friend was going to come over, an Irish fellow; but he didn't make it.

Wil, Jan's vriendin, came over. I didn't know if I should stand or sit. Manners.

I argued with Arend today. What are we going to do with it (the work permit?) Nothing.

I got to work just before 2:00. A packet from CWI was there on the fridge. I looked in. Yep. I went to the kelder W.C. [basement restroom] to change my clothes. Sat and cried a bit.

Arend showed it [to me {the document — but said that we were not going to use it.}] That's ridiculous.

And I still don't understand his logic. He's kind of passive. He mixes in the issues, and brings up petty occasions from past emotions. He mentioned those burned pizzas, the ones I should have(?) nixed, the ones Jan made and Jantien passed.

I was angry for a while, but later understood better.

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