My landlady is certainly one of the smartest women I ever met. She sees everything. Well, it seems I've watched it a long time that way.
Sometimes I thought she already knew when I come in, we greet us that I'm wearing no underpants fresh today or whatever.
The way they distributed compliments, kindnesses, always appropriate, never put or exaggerated, or sometimes a necessary small complaint against an unknown person or tribe guests, is practically unbeatable.
This woman works very, very hard, and yet it looks as though no other life than their lives.
Enough waffling: I admire them.
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There is a net record, which states that guests were sitting at her as though in your own living room. I have already spoken of my second living room. Yes, she has managed that it creates daily that man - also there are times armed, how could it be otherwise? - With this feeling enters her inn.
Two friends who I met only there are "me" unfortunately died off in the last two years. Because sometimes I did not want to go back. But I have not kept up to happiness.
Not only because of all the bizarre types, which, besides me run, there, the fresh air sake, I need sometimes (even though it did often ärgst smoky) whether the new girlfriend (well, we keep the ball once flat, good known) that I won there, it pulls me over and over again, just as if magically, into my property clever hostess (which I do not nachstelle).
Lately I experience how time and again come more and more interesting new young people (I mean now from twenty-five year old, the days when you could have run with 16 among spirits, smoking and drinking, unfortunately, are gone), the Local revitalized so that not only old Muppet Show brothers like me and a few cronies sit at the counter and replace old hat.
They want to True again. Everyone has a cell phone. (Except for me. Mine almost never works.)
Almost everyone goes when it is called but once mobile or have to call or wants out of the door. In our living room you can not babbling into an electrical part. If you already mumbles, then decency, another hiesig existing, perhaps Mitlallenden on.
Rarely a daddelt working on his Schmerzphon. This may even make a novice.
It does not even watch an evil, but if happens. Man blasphemes more than a bit. The power or not inclined to. Each blasphemes. Not always, but dauerndzu. One is, at least among the established residents, family. Each and every even newcomers feel you, do not do that with the Dummphon, wofern not other times but just briefly to show something about it in our Holy Hag and groves.
One ponders, you talk, we laugh, is coarse, coarse, makes, especially among the indigenous people also kindly obliquely from the side, one lives händelt, insulted mutually to the border of the Swabian or even Saxon, hardly a verbal rudeness, malice remains off, finally embracing again: you are human.
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Tags: Dummphon , Wise woman , Schmerzphon
