The weirdness continues.

i have taken to leaving my door permanently locked. i ‘m sure my landlady has gone in while i’m out (someone had looked through a bank statement i left on my table) but at least she can’t get in while i’m in (i turn the key in the lock). Late last night i was awoken by someone rattling the door, she (if it was she rather than the dogs or kangaroo or the Viennese handyman/drunk) gave up quickly, thank God. i don’t think i could cope with a sustained rattling session, late at night. i am keen to leave but realistically i see no chances of escape – i’m scheduled to teach about 600 € worth of classes in May, and i need more like 2500 € to survive, after tax and pension contributions and medical insurance. Goddamn the Kaiser and his taxes. And goddamn my landlady and goddamn the circus.

i am nonetheless strangely amused by the situation, as if it could be no other. Ordinary human beings find bearable accommodation with ease, while most of my flat/housemates have been insane, renegade, and variously intolerable. My ideal is my ex-landlady from Manchester, who charged almost no rent and left me alone in my garret – a perfect arrangement. As if i have travelled to a mirror image world, my crazed German landlady charges me obscenely high rent and has a bad habit of rifling through my possessions, hammering on my windows and door, and prying into my life as if i am just another of her dogs. While it is true that an Elberry is an animal, i am not fit for the circus.

Nor do i intend to be burgled.