Thursday, August 6, 2009

Clouds on the horizon

As we prepare to leave Lugano and our smart little white apartment here, nothing strikes fear into my heart more than stories like this. It has already been established that, by Swiss standards, I am a totally incompetent cleaner. So I have long dreaded the moving-out process, or rather the apartment inspection at its conclusion. The scratches in our stainless steel sink keep me from sleeping at night; spills make me cry. In my spare time I clean the oven. Please believe me, I jest not about this dread.

My personal pride, by now perhaps permanently crippled, is not the issue. It is that our management company has a not-so-inconsequential sum of our ever-dwindling savings from which to punitively subtract fees. How much will the brown spot under the mirror, which is only my fault if one can be blamed (and I'm sure that one can) for cleaning too much, cost? The daily pain and suffering to be endured by future residents who will have to bear this constant incursion of entropy into their lives is bound to cost a lot in Switzerland.

Trains are on time, babies do not cry, cars stop at crosswalks, and walls apparently do not get those mysterious gray scuff marks. This is the way of life in Switzerland. And, ah, how we will miss paying for it.

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