Urząd Skarbowy

I stepped off bus 194 into the heart of Kraków's northern badlands. All around were brightly coloured blocks like matchboxes. Squatting behind the bus stop was a low building incorporating KFC, Lewiathan and one of those new plastic internet banks, all slowly, dustily baking in the sunlight. It was classic osiedle territory, even down to the kids swinging on the carpet-beating frame. Not an Urząd in sight.

Next to Lewiathan was an old guy slowly turning a rotisserie on which chickens and various other bits of carcass were skewed. I strolled over to ask him for directions....

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The management would like to apologise for the interruption of this post due to excess rage. Normal service will be restored once the author has calmed down and filled in her PIT-37 online.

In the meantime, please enjoy this soothing music video:

Stress

I used to be shy. Very shy: being scared of shop assistants shy; twisting up my hands and feet and not looking people in the eye shy; acting like a moron at school to deflect the abject terror associated with social interaction in all its forms.

Then, I grew up, I left home, went to university - discovered the relaxing powers of alcohol - and it all got better.

Only... it's come back...

Now that I'm effectively running my own business, I'm writing emails and talking on the phone all the time, in three different languages did I use the right formal register, was I too familiar, did my quote overstep the mark, should I really have asked that question or does that make me look inexperienced?

and I'm feeling a pressure at my temples and in my jaw and I'm holding my breath

Then - coming back from Poland - I'm plunged into social circles where just having a funny ex-pat story isn't enough. I'm being respectfully interested with my parents' friends, pretending to be grown up with new acquaintances of my own age, trying to fit back in comfortably with old friends
do we still talk about that? did I forget to ask about so-and-so? have I said something inappropriate? did I offend someone? am I talking too fast, did I interrupt?

tension, pressure, stress-stress-stress, breathe ... breathe...

And then, to cap it all, I read that Stress Makes You Fat

Not only are young women expected to live their lives in a constant state of worry about their figures, their careers and the size of their student debts... we're now under continuous pressure to RELAX! AT ALL COSTS! ON PAIN OF... FAT!!!

make it stop make it stop make it stop...