Late the night before I finished scanning another batch of photos salvaged from dad's garage. Though I had most of them reshot from negatives (and in better quality), some of them were unique - either by the way I developed them ("prints" sounds so wrong nowadays when they would actually be printed), or by the tinge they acquired, or they simply came from other people.
Many of them are actually unusable, dad's garage having been leaking for years ("every coffee break taken while pouring concrete was another crack until we put this roof on top of it" - "but then why were the photos in the garage" and he was suddenly deaf again). They are either irretrievably stuck together (tried to soak them in water, no good, emulsion falls off) or if they come off the emulsion sticks to the back of the next picture.
So I'm scanning those from the middle of the box and the side where only one corner was stuck. The scanner is the one I got off kupindo.com or kupujem-prodajem.com, for 6000 dinars (was 50€ at the time).
In the evening we went to the theatre. Which we didn't do for years - even though one of the main actors was a student of mine (from that one semester I did in 1980 in 13.). Nušić's "Power", always fresh. This one is actually so fresh that I think they're rewriting it every week just to keep abreast with the madness that's the political life today. And yet life doesn't imitate art - at the same time the PM performed one of his most ludicrous ego trips (even crazier than earlier in the week where he submitted himself to the poligraf test, ie. lie detector).
It's amazing how much fun we had with a piece in which practically nothing happens - a PM goes to visit his inlaws in his village, some kin and neighbors try to get through to him and ask for some favor - to have some wrongs done to them (or which they did) righted, or just to get a sinecure for someone. He stays for the night and goes, and everything happens around the fence - act one outside, the rest inside. And, ah, it happens today, not 100 years ago. I laughed myself to tears.
We got tickets from Višnja, she's some kind of retiree club chief for her local community, always going somewhere to organize things. This friday we're having dinner with them (the club, that is) just to move our asses outside.
Later it turned out that she embezzled some money from the retirees' association's piggy bank, and Arpi had to take a bank loan to repay that. She somehow remained on the position.