Sixteen Days to Go

It's now only just over two weeks before we head to Frankfurt. Well, first we're going to stop in Singapore for two nights to recover from the hideousness of moving. And hideous it is.

I thought I'd plateau-ed with my panic, and kept telling myself that it wouldn't be the horror that moving usually is, because Thieu's work is paying for the relocation. But that was before it dawned on me that while his work would pay for the fairly modest amount of crap we are moving to Germany, they obviously wouldn't be paying for the much larger amount of crap we need to store here. So much rifling through of old diaries, awful sketchbooks, ancient letters and tiny, stained clothes (Mads') has ensued. I've been selling stuff on ebay, but I'm going to stop because it's just not worth it for the most part. I am glad, however, that we've finally found someone who will take the Ikea cot. Thieu tried to flog it off via an ad in the window of the local shop. He headed the ad 'Scandanavian Cot'. Funny, but it didn't work.

I was much more honest on ebay and some good people from Templestowe and driving over at some stage (hopefully very soon) to lug the wretched thing away. They are even giving us fifty bucks for the privilege, which makes me feel a bit guilty. But still, I'm sure they probably have a very impressive ebay profile and simply intend to resell it to someone else.

So, because I have way too much to do, I've started to blog. Because this is what I do when I'm anxious. And I've just handed in a Go Girl draft so my typing fingers were feeling all weird and under-exercised.

So why start a blog again? Bad habits are hard to break, I guess. Plus the Rents have started one so I thought I may as well respond in kind. Maybe it will be a nice record of our time in Frankfurt. Maybe I'll save it all to disk and present it to Mads one day and say 'here's a record of our two years in Frankfurt' and she'll look at me sullenly (she's a teenager in my vision) and say 'but mum, we didn't stay for two years, remember? You freaked out after a week and we came back. So yeah, thanks for reminding me that I never learned to speak German and now I'll never be a diplomat/translator/Goethe expert/Miss World' etc.

Dunno. Rambling. Better stop. So much to do. Still not sleeping. How long will the insomnia continue? Surely it will stop once we finally arrive in Frankfurt? But maybe it's like the drought not really being a drought but the 'new dry'? Maybe this is not insomnia but the 'new non-sleep'? Well, at least that will free up plenty of time for blogging.

German phrase for the day: Ich spreche kein Deutsch.