D'oh!

I’m starting to worry that my job is dumbing me down. That so much mind-numbing manual labour has caused large parts of my brain to completely shut down due to inactivity. Certainly something must be going on, for I cannot find any other reason why I have made so many stupid mistakes over the past six weeks.
It all started when I accidentally put my iPod into the washing machine. I had it in a side pocket of my work trousers, and those things are so small and lightweight. Easy mistake to make, could have happened to anyone. Although you’d think that losing a $300 iPod would be a good lesson in the importance of checking your pockets before washing. Yet two weeks later I managed to put my passport through the wash too.
Losing a passport abroad is a real hassle. To get a replacement I have to travel to the Australian Embassy in Stockholm to be interviewed. I also need to provide my birth certificate, proof of address, and my application needs to be signed by guarantor who can certify my identity. The guarantor must be either an Australian citizen, or from an approved occupation (teacher, police officer, etc). They must have known me for at least 12 months, however they cannot be related to me either through birth, marriage or a de facto relationship. Seeing as I’ve only been here 7 months, the only people who have known me for more then a year are Ankie and her family. Although when I spoke to the Embassy they said they’d let Ankie’s mother be a guarantor if I couldn’t find anyone else.

Luckily I had the foresight to bring my birth certificate with me when I moved here, so the rest of the application was pretty straightforward. I had all my forms filled out, signed by a guarantor, along with all my documents ready to go. I booked my trip to Stockholm and organised a day off work. I was even able to time my trip with the federal election so I could vote at the same time.
Then last Saturday, and this is where I really hit the heights of stupidity, I noticed all my forms and documents were missing. Somehow I managed to lose them. The previous day Ankie had been cleaning the flat, and the obvious guess would be she chucked them out my mistake, but she swears she would have noticed them and wouldn’t have done that. What ever happened to them, they are definitely not in our flat. I’ve spent the whole week tearing the place apart, only ever stopping to punch the wall and scream four letter words starting with ‘F’.

So now I have to start the whole application again, expect this time I have to organise a new birth certificate too. To do this I need to post my drivers licence back home to my mum, as she cannot get a copy without it, and a letter from me giving her authorisation. When that is all organised then I can make another appointment at the embassy and organise another trip to Stockholm. Maybe then I might finally get a new passport.

Seeing as I’ve already booked my train trip and it’s non-refundable, I’m going to Stockholm tomorrow anyway. But now I’m basically going all that way just to make a very lacklustre decision between Kevin Rudd and John Howard. It’s the sort of uninspiring choice a moron like me deserves.