back in the DDR...

It feels good to speak German again.  To be certain, the travels from Atlanta to Dublin were dreary, but once I switched over to the Frankfurt connection and found myself conversing in German, everything seemed to brighten a bit.  I’m an addict. 

I type this, nevertheless, very mindful of the jetlag that keeps dragging my eyelids down like an ocean riptide.  But I can’t sleep.  If I do, it’ll only be worse.  Last time it felt like a week before I wasn’t tired.  And just like in cars, I have the unfortunate inability to sleep while moving.  So, the sever hours over the Atlantic were spent reading Dicken’s David Copperfield (amazing!), watching “Date Night” (worthy of a rental), and bearing through Kick A** (terrible in many ways, and definitely not heroic).  So, my mental sleep-sensors and sinews are going crazy—“You should be snoring right now! Stupid Peter, don’t your remember the bounty of sleep.” Uhhg.

Kelly and Fraucke await me (hopefully) when I land.  Then I’m off to see Anne, grab my packs, and set up some gatherings with my other Mainz friends. 

On Wednesday I head to Gotha, with two possibilities of apartments.  One that is more expensive, but more sensible in many ways and the other is an opportunity to live in a renovated communist-block building.  Decisions, decisions, decisions.