Still I wait. I wait and wait and wait, a wait without end, interminable and relentless. It's now early next week and I've no news on my fate which dangles agonisingly in the balance. Everything else is but a sideshow, shadows, temporary distractions which fail to actually distract.
I've tried put it out of my head, concentrate on other matters which need doing, but to no avail. Every two minutes I must check my email, the nervous anticipation of good tidings instantly extinguished by no tidings at all. Even now, as I type, I must glance at my inbox for any new messages. But there are none.

Meanwhile, more Umzugs loom. Germans are like snails in that they carry their houses on their backs. Apartments come totally unfurnished - not even a lightbulb or the cable to hang it from - so everyone has their own furniture, cooking utensils, washing machines and shite which they lug with them every time they move for their whole lives. The more shit you have the better it seems, a source of pride to show the new neighbours as it's hauled up the stairs.
Beds, wardrobes, writing desks made of lead, shelves, kitchen presses, dishwashers, lampshades, plates, cups, spoons, everything; it's all packed in industrial-sized boxes before an email is sent around to coax "friends" into sacrificing a day of their lives and possibly their backs to help the mover move. I've concluded now it's the single most important reason Germans make friends at all.

There's no way out of an Umzug unless you leave the country or fake an injury, quite popular options despite the promise of Bier und Brötchen to revitalise exhausted Umzuggers after they've been Umzugged. Some people, of course, steadily refuse the advances of any potential friends for fear they'd be asked help with an Umzug in the future. These people generally rely on canines or cats for company, neither creature known for accumulating vast hordes of material goods.

I too, have had to acquire furniture since I moved here. After priding myself on moving here with just a bootful of material possessions: books, clothes, a concrete hippo and elephant, roller blades, my laptop, a bottle of wine and big box of Barry's Tea, I now find myself unable to simply up and leave at the drop of a teabag. I've been grounded by the acquisitions of a bed, a bike, a lampshade, a Snoopy calendar, more books, a pottery bull from Perú, even a rug.

Hang on a sec, I'll just check my email...
Nope, nothing. Schweinerei. A new email but 'twas a false alarm. I know I'm placing too much hope on the tidings to come, but I can't help it. I just can't wait to stop waiting...


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