Rainy day in Berlin..

Today was just one of those days... again...

My Tuesday started out with me waking up at about 6:15 a.m. My wonderful husband had already made me a cappuccino knowing that I wasn't thrilled about going to school on this rainy morning, and I am by no means a morning person. After drinking coffee with Noah while he read me the news, I spent the rest of the morning with the worst case of morning sickness I've had since my first trimester. Every time poor Noah walked by or was anywhere near or in the bathroom he heard me either dry heaving hoping I would puke and feel better or ripping farts capable of knocking shelves off of walls. Now, mind you, I try not to fart in front of him, so when he hears these mammoth roars of gas protruding from my body, it is not a good thing. I was horribly embarrassed. Thankful that he doesn't hold these times against me, I began to start my day.

I waddled my fat, fluffy butt to the train station in the rain. I made it to my German courses on time, and by about 10:30 my nausea started to subside. My early language session went well, but my afternoon one was a different story. The Germans think the best way to teach you a language is to only speak that language to you until you pick it up. That is all fine and dandy. I'm pretty smart, and I pick things up rather quickly. My morning instructor understands that for this concept to work, she must speak loudly, clearly, and slowly enough for people to process what she is saying. My afternoon teacher is still struggling with this. She blabbers on at about 90 words per minute in a voice so soft that I can barely hear every other word. Then, she gets annoyed that nobody has any clue what the F*#$ she is talking about. It's hard enough for me to understand her teaching, but I am the only American and the only person whose native tongue is English. Everybody else has to learn German through English instead of through a teacher who speaks Spanish, Norwegian, Italian, French, etc. THAT SUCKS!


After school, I waddled back home in the rain. All I could think about, besides hoping that I make it all the way home, was taking a glorious nap. That, my friends, did not happen. When I got home, I started some laundry and began looking at the numbers to see what kind of car Noah and I can currently afford with baby Sylvia on the way. Mind you, the door to the balcony is always open because there is no AC, and it lets the breeze through. I looked out over the river which I just love when it is raining, and I saw a couple bugs on the door. I decided to play bug killer, break out the vacuum and suck down 2 flying bugs and a couple of spiders. Then, I looked behind our green curtain where it is against the door and saw the swarm. I guess where it has been raining, all of them came in. I completely blew a gasket. I started crying hysterically. I almost started packing to go back home. As much as I would love to call the Orkin Man, they don't have exterminators here for some RIDICULOUS reason. I guess they believe in "live and let live unless you're an American or from the Middle East." After my hissy fit, I realized I needed to take matters into my own hands. I broke out the can of Raid and now am guilty of genocide. I murdered and sucked about 1,000 creepy, crawly, icky insects into my vacuum cleaner, and I don't feel the least bit guilty.



Feeling quite accomplished, I am now sitting on the couch enjoying one of the most delicious cucumbers I've ever eaten and wondering if my husband is ever coming home to rescue me from.. I guess myself..