That means, a week-end of panic and preparations. Being the last week-end spent in Germany ahead of the semi-permanent move (that, at this point, it's likely to be the 14th morning, even if I still haven't got the ticket) and considering that when I will move to Germany I will be on my own for a few weeks, the days were spent in preparing a few things and fine tuning the daily routines.
So it was that we headed to the bicycle shop to have my ride, bought to be a summer week-ends tool, turned into an all purpose, all seasons piece of machinery (which means, new tyres, a retouch to the gears, new tail lamp and such things).
It was then time to hit the hypermarkets in order to make a copy of the mailbox key, buying hangers, a few things for the kitchen, mosquito nets (strongly wanted by Susanne and put in place by me on sunday) and a 5 kgs-heavy de-humidifier set, all to be brought home, by lack of a car, by sheer arms' strength and the occasional bus.
Then it was grocery shopping time where, alon with the usual few kilos of fruit, we stumbled in the little piece of furniture for the kitchen we had meant to buy a few weeks ago but that had ran out before we managed to put our hands upon. Should I mention that the kit weighted a good 10 kgs? And so there we go, assembling the little thing following images-only instructions put together by a true surrealist artist. Then, as I was cooking, she proceeded to re-arrange her wardrobe to leave room for my own stuff to come (and actually partially arrived there already over the last two visits... basically all my heaviest stuff is already over there, together with underwear, socks and a pair of shoes).
Finally, on sunday, it came the feared (by me) and sadistically enjoyed (by Susanne and, as demonstrated by her unstoppable laughter, my mother) "how to clean the house, the sanitaries, the laundry and deal with the (obviously differentiated) trash" moment. Once settled the matter with the various soaps and tools, agreed on schedules, duties' division, economic settlements, rent, bills and settled on further revising the sleeping quarter's situation (we both agreed that the power of love can not overcome the uncomfortableness of sleeping in a 90 cms wide bed for a 4 to 6 months long period), we got to the final, touching, moment: the writing of the new signs for the entry phone and the mailbox (with her name above mine, obviously). I must say, it was... not without some emotion on my part (but, I think, on her side as well) that we glanced upon the shining new tag.
That's for the preparations, but where's the panic, you'd ask. Well, it happened that on saturday I put my hands on one of my future textbooks, the one for the statistics and econometrics's unit. As I opened the book and saw it filled with the most intricate mathematical formulas I had ever faced I couldn't hold a groan as a panic that I hadn't felt since the Economics exam back in university, years and years ago (the only exam I failed twice and that, when I finally passed, I exorcised by burning the books crying "never again").
Such is my horror and fear that I resolved to the unthinkable, I turned to my scientifically minded (and mathematical analysis certified) brother who, after admitting that statistics was his second most despised subject after analysis, agreed to give me a refresh (a refresh!? more like a fresh start) over the slightly less than three weeks I still have to spend here. I'm at page 20 of 300 and my panic isn't but growing steadily, or, rather, proportionately to a dependant variable based on a given positive parameter applied to the independent constant of the mathematical hardship I'm facing. Grim times to come...
So it was that we headed to the bicycle shop to have my ride, bought to be a summer week-ends tool, turned into an all purpose, all seasons piece of machinery (which means, new tyres, a retouch to the gears, new tail lamp and such things).
It was then time to hit the hypermarkets in order to make a copy of the mailbox key, buying hangers, a few things for the kitchen, mosquito nets (strongly wanted by Susanne and put in place by me on sunday) and a 5 kgs-heavy de-humidifier set, all to be brought home, by lack of a car, by sheer arms' strength and the occasional bus.
Then it was grocery shopping time where, alon with the usual few kilos of fruit, we stumbled in the little piece of furniture for the kitchen we had meant to buy a few weeks ago but that had ran out before we managed to put our hands upon. Should I mention that the kit weighted a good 10 kgs? And so there we go, assembling the little thing following images-only instructions put together by a true surrealist artist. Then, as I was cooking, she proceeded to re-arrange her wardrobe to leave room for my own stuff to come (and actually partially arrived there already over the last two visits... basically all my heaviest stuff is already over there, together with underwear, socks and a pair of shoes).
Finally, on sunday, it came the feared (by me) and sadistically enjoyed (by Susanne and, as demonstrated by her unstoppable laughter, my mother) "how to clean the house, the sanitaries, the laundry and deal with the (obviously differentiated) trash" moment. Once settled the matter with the various soaps and tools, agreed on schedules, duties' division, economic settlements, rent, bills and settled on further revising the sleeping quarter's situation (we both agreed that the power of love can not overcome the uncomfortableness of sleeping in a 90 cms wide bed for a 4 to 6 months long period), we got to the final, touching, moment: the writing of the new signs for the entry phone and the mailbox (with her name above mine, obviously). I must say, it was... not without some emotion on my part (but, I think, on her side as well) that we glanced upon the shining new tag.
That's for the preparations, but where's the panic, you'd ask. Well, it happened that on saturday I put my hands on one of my future textbooks, the one for the statistics and econometrics's unit. As I opened the book and saw it filled with the most intricate mathematical formulas I had ever faced I couldn't hold a groan as a panic that I hadn't felt since the Economics exam back in university, years and years ago (the only exam I failed twice and that, when I finally passed, I exorcised by burning the books crying "never again").
Such is my horror and fear that I resolved to the unthinkable, I turned to my scientifically minded (and mathematical analysis certified) brother who, after admitting that statistics was his second most despised subject after analysis, agreed to give me a refresh (a refresh!? more like a fresh start) over the slightly less than three weeks I still have to spend here. I'm at page 20 of 300 and my panic isn't but growing steadily, or, rather, proportionately to a dependant variable based on a given positive parameter applied to the independent constant of the mathematical hardship I'm facing. Grim times to come...
No comments:
Post a Comment