Officially Homeless

As of today.

Thursday I spent six hours cleaning the apartment that I do not like. Six. It is painful enough for me to clean an apartment I do like.

Last May, I stayed at the Marriott with BFF Coley. Day 2, she stood surveying our suite. "Lilan," she said. "You are a study in entropy." "What?!" I cast my eyes on the kitchen table: Keys vitamins receipts water bottles takeout menus clumped into some semblance of order. I had been trying so hard. "You spread out," she continued. Not unkindly. "You just can't help it." I protested: "But!" Then laughed.

Some things are best not denied.

Staying in Borsigstrasse, Katrinka took to calling me "Miss Entropy."

"Chaos Theory," offered Adam. As I tripped on flat sidewalk. Swiped my bowl off his sofa. Turned every TV channel to static. I didn't even tell him about the goat yogurt that burst in my backpack. The jar that rolled from the recycling bag, shattering at my feet. The almond butter that clung like Elmer's glue to the kitchen floor.

Regardless, F.'s flat survived. I washed the linens, mopped the Laminat, even re-taped the doggy-style poster to her bedroom door. As for the cooking pot, that stays.

Friday's Plan: Finish packing. Order taxi. Load trunk with belonging. Unload at cousin's flat (Borsigstrasse). Ride S-Bahn to Hauptbahnhof. Take train to Bochum (in Ruhrgebiet): Wedding of mother's best friend's son. A brother to me.

Friday's Reality: Finished packing. Ordered taxi. Removed keys from key chain. Dragged two suitcases, one backpack, one messenger bag, one purse, one plastic bag full of food to front door. Waited. Peered down street. Waited. Checked Handy time. Waited. Called for taxi: Busy. Waited. Ate a cucumber (=lunch). Waited. Called for taxi. Told: None available.

Waited.

Dragged two suitcases, one backpack, one messenger bag, one purse, one plastic bag full of food to corner. Peered down street for empty cabs: None. Waited. Called for taxi. Told: Five minutes. Dragged two suitcases, one backpack, one messenger bag, one purse, one plastic bag full of food back back to apartment door. Waited. Called cousin's voicemail: Not coming. Will leave belongings at F.'s. Suddenly remembered: No keys.

Cursed.

Neighbor materializes! Snuck back into building. Rang F.'s father's doorbell. Waited. Begged: Weekend storage. Dragged one suitcase, one backpack, one purse, one plastic bag full of food into his music room. Gifted him lettuce, tomato, parsnip. Called taxi: Forget it. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag to U-Bahn station. Waited. Rode U-5 to Alexanderplatz. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag to S-Bahn station. Waited. Checked Handy time: Bochum train departed. Waited. Learned: Deutsche Bahn on strike.

Sighed.

Bought Cola Zero. Waited. Sat atop suitcase. Waited. Fell flat on ass. Bystander: That's what happens when they have wheels. Waited. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag onto sardinesque S-7. Disembarked at Friedrichstrasse. Waited. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag onto less-sardinesque S-75. Disembarked at Hauptbahnhof. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag to Deutsche Bahn Info Zentrum. Learned: No problem boarding next train. Hunted down toilet. Bought Volvic (=lunch, part 2). Ran for train.  Boarded back end. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag down sardinesque aisles. No free seats. Learned: Boarded wrong end. Disembarked next stop. Ran for front end. Dragged one suitcase, one messenger bag down sardinesque aisles. Found: Free seat! Purchased pre-wrapped gouda-mayonnaise sandwich (=lunch, part 3).

And here endeth the chaos. Other than the state of my mother's best friend's guest room within fifteen minutes of my arrival, that is.

Oh, and the fact that I have NO home.

Comments

[Julie]

this is so saaaaaaad! you are a trooper. trouper? glad you didn't lose a bag in all that lugging.

[Moms in San Francisco]

Now, that was a blog hard to read for Moms as I hated to learn about your nightmarish departure from Bänsch Street to Sebastian's wedding, almost 4 bags in tow which I could possibly compare to my over-the-top arduous hitch hike travel to Rommy's Hochzeit 43 years ago after missing the train. By the way, where do those "entropy" genes come from? Hugs, Mami