So last night was Valentine's Day, and I spent the night driving to Wallau, Germany in a rented molester van to get furniture for our new place. Wallau is home to Germany's largest IKEA, and we had to get some big ticket items last night, including a carpet and a bookshelf. All went well; we dined on Swedish cafeteria food, agreed on light fixtures, and made it back to the 'Furt by 9 p.m -- we thought that left us plenty of time to set up. We were wrong. Just as we were getting into the groove of reading those diagrammed instructions (about 10:15 p.m.) we hear our doorbell ring. E went to the door, only to find our terrifying 65 year-old Hausmaesterin tapping her toe. She told him we were being too loud, that some people were in bed... then she added a spiteful "Wir sind nicht in Amerika!," (we are not in America!) before mounting her broom and flying back west. Ugh! I am so fed up with that attitude: A) This lady's image of Amerika is most certainly derived from marathon sessions of watching OUR imported TV shows, and B) it wasn't even late! C) just because we're big (both metaphorically and literally) doesn't mean you can take any cheap shot you like, at any time.
Pictures to come, a promise...
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