Oh. My. Jaysus. Well, just as I suspected, I’m in immigration hell. The rigamarole involved in trying to become Swiss residents is a small cauchemar (nightmare). But, as a Swiss friend reminded me today, hell in Switzerland is an oxymoron. Which works very well for me — I too am a moron.

Anyway, back in the day when I was thinking and shrinking for a living, whenever I ran into situations that frustrated the arse off me (like, every 2-3 hours), I would ask somebody on the team to pass me a fork to stick in my eye, accompanied by a dramatic pantomime of me stabbing myself in the eye with cutlery (so professional, me). I’m proud to say that this became my trademark, a Bobbi-ism if you will. Well, to anyone who has ever worked with me, I ask you, is this not the perfect town for me?

I haven’t had a whole lot of time to take in the sights of Vevey today, what with all the friggin’ paperwork and sudden, violent rainstorms, but still, I can’t help but be undone by this place. I love it here. I must to be seeking this kind of chaos.

Wish me luck Finders. Tomorrow is another day of the Great Immigration-a-thon. Forms, forms and more forms, a brainstorm session about my much talked about return to the land of the working, two apartments to see that I can’t really afford. I can’t help but feel there’s a storm brewing…