Where Have All the Cowboys Gone

Today was a great day! My cargo shipment arrived from Abu Dhabi, so Momster and I went out to Cargo City Sud and jumped through the hoops (sign a paper, pay 15.42 euros, get a government stamp, convince a man to go load my stuff on a forklift, put all four huge boxes in the small truck we rented for the day). Anyway, we left the house at 9:30 in the morning and I had my stuff at home in Germany by 12:30. Getting all my crap up two flights of stairs and then up a spiral staircase was no easy task, but I shooed my mom off to work and I hauled all of that mess upstairs. I am LOVING my room right now. I’m never coming out. I’ve got my big TV, DVD player, cute little silver and seafoam stereo, all my clothes, my cool Arab crap like my little framed woven rug, and all kinds of stuff that’s just been around me this last happy year. It really feels like my space now. The only problem is that I have no real place to put my clothes. It’s driving me crazy. Some are on a free-standing rack and some are in the world’s tiniest wardrobe. Most of them are in a pile on the floor.

I’m listening to a CD I found. I asked Aroun to burn a CD for me. It’s all French songs. These are all about sad, lost loves. Or at least I think they are. I don’t really know what they’re saying. I pretend a lot of the time and just say, “Bien Sur!” or “Tiens!” from time to time.

Anyway, after I was reunited with my shit, my mom threw a dinner party. She does that kind of thing really well. We all sat around drinking a lot of wine and stuffing our faces. After appeasing the old people, I went out with my mom’s gay colleague’s boyfriend. We went to a bar and talked about the best ways to make money. I drank full calorie Coca Cola and smoked. It felt good. Hell, I was in a German bar. He drank a nasty looking beer.

So I was kept busy for most of the day, which made me happy. I also vacuumed the floor. As the floor in our apartment is basically blue felt, everything stays on the surface and SHOWS. If there is a little white cat hair or a fleck of black lint, there might as well be a spotlight on it. So I did the mad housewife thing and vacuumed to within an inch of my life. I was sweating and EXHAUSTED by the end of it. And there is still cat hair, which pisses me off like you would not believe. I think my mother gave up on this carpet a long time ago. So it got pretty bad before I attacked it. I swear I think I was starting to go bonkers over how crap it looked. Maybe I’m beginning to cross over to obsessive compulsive, because I vacuumed more space more thoroughly than is really healthy for a person to do. Isn’t it absolutely riveting to read about my vacuuming? I guess you could be watching people sleep on a reality TV show. But at least here you get to comment.

I go back to England on the 8th. Have I mentioned that I am missing my favorite DVD? It’s called Venus Beauty Institute and it’s French. I’m pretty confident that it is at David’s house. God damn it. It’s 30 bucks to replace it in the states. I guess I’ll e-mail him to get it back. Doesn’t matter. I have to give him a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, anyway.

xxx