Haven’t even been in the apartment three days and already we’ve got two violations against the neighborhood drug policy. Goblin and Gremlin showed up stoned. I drugged them for the car ride to Wilhelmsplatz, and here it is twelve hours later and they’re still glassy-eyed.
I collapsed into bed this evening at 7. I woke at midnight. Damn.
Apparently a very thin wall is the only thing separating my bed from the next apartment’s noisy teevee. Damn again.
Can’t get the wireless working. Gonna try a different router. For now I’m connected to the modem with a wire. What is this, the Dark Ages? It’s like freakin 2003 all over again. Damn damn damn.
But that’s really all I can complain about, unless you count my tummy, and how empty it is. I ate some leftover rigatoni this evening. Couldn’t find a fork, despite having purchased two different sets of plastic utensils to tide me over till all the silverware gets unpacked. Had to use a paring knife. (Had never used it before– glad to know it’s useful for something. Glad I was even able to identify it, for that matter.) Sliced my lip. I suppose that’s what you get for eating with a knife.
Also punched myself in the nose while wrestling with some packing tape. Should have used the paring knife on that box.
But overall I’m very pleased. Thanks to Dad, Crystal, Crystal’s boyfriend Jon, or possibly John, and Crystal’s 4-year-old Marlee, all my junk is here in the apartment. All I’ve got to do is unpack. I can get that done before I start work on Thursday. Right?