Moving sucks

Spent all morning packing kitchen things.

Tomorrow.... I have to deal with Bosnian Serbs who will take what the fucking social service people refused to pack, and have it transported over to Buchenweg. (Beech street.) And then we can take months to get things in order.

Peter keeps going ON and On... 'You're sending me to Buchenwald'. Right. And am gonna send Dr. Mengele to visit him next. And the street before that is named Birkenweg. Birch Street. So that must be Birkenwald???? Both infamous concentration camps. I never knew they were so close to one another....

It is the pits. Just the pits....

The BS's think they are finally on target, but I hope to have a real surprise for them. Am so wanting to goose Karma and make it happen. This weekend is gonna be SO much fun. My couch critter has to get out of his mansard apt. and will put his stuff over at Peter's. And if I am correct on this.... Peter has the right to the apt till he dies. If he lets someone else use it if he is not there, he still has the right. Tuesday we get to find out if that is possible.

And my couch critter finally gets his own four walls with a roof over his head, and can do what he pleases, and the Bosnians will tear their partly non-existant hair and wail and lament.

And I get a few hours in the day where I don't have to be restrained. That would be my idea of heaven at the moment. Just not to be in the presence of anyone and enjoy stillness.

Not that the couch critter isn't 'rücksichtsvoll'. (considerate... it took me a while to find the word again in my head... so few people are.) He is. Very.

But I want my private space back. I want my silence in my house.

Silence is very underrated....