But it was a bit of a weird day.
To bed half an hour too late again. If I were sensible I’d just move my morning alarm half an hour later and called it good. But then my husband would have to wait even longer for breakfast. I’ll continue striving, I guess.
I did my morning routine almost completely with the exception of meditation. Writing went better than expected, even. We ate breakfast a little quicker than usual because we were scheduled to pick up our rental car and had to get to the train there on time.
On the way my husband thought it would be a good idea to talk about our communication problems when tense. Fun! Especially since I was extra tense because I didn’t really know where we needed to go, we were both apprehensive about the whole thing and especially driving after years and years in an unfamiliar car, all those things.
I had chosen a car rental that is only two train stations towards Munich. The train ride went without incident and I don’t think it was late, even.
When looking at what I needed to bring with me it had said, ID for both of us and driver’s licenses – which is understandable – and a credit card in the name of the main driver – less understandable, but okay – plus the booking agreement, a bank statement and a recent utility bill in the name of the main driver.
Um. What?
The only ‚utility‘ that is in my name is our internet. Sure.
Since I am a rule follower at heart I actually did bring all of these things. I didn’t print them out, though, I just put them on my phone as PDFs.
And – as expected – it turned out I didn’t need them at all. What I needed was my ID and driver’s license, my husband’s driver’s license and my credit card. The end.
We went to get our car which was parked on a lot across the street. It was a mid-size car, just as expected, very new, everything was fine, but – I had explicitly asked for a stick shift. This car is not a stick shift.
My husband hasn’t driven for 12 years or so and has never, not once in his life drove anything with an automatic transmission. Pity. Also, you need to keep in mind that the car we have driven for years and years was a 1996 Ford Fiesta. There was barely a radio in that car, never mind anything electronic.
Or rental is brand-new. The key is one of those fob things. You start the engine with a button. My husband sat down in the driver’s seat and we started trying things out. I have driven automatic in the past because my mother has one but I keep forgetting things. And I still have to remind myself to leave my left foot firmly planted and only use the right one.
We tried and tried and the car wouldn’t budge. Very embarrassing and I was just about to walk back to the agency and ask for help but then we decided to switch places. I figured out that one of the millions of buttons is standing in for the handbrake, I started the car yet again and finally got it moving. Phew.
One reason why I chose that rental place was that it’s pretty close to our home and that it’s mainly one big road all the way.
Or so I thought.
There has been a ton of construction in that area lately. Basically, they are building another city almost as big as the one we are living in between Munich and our hometown. Which means they need new streets as well. And the one that was a long, straight road for decades, now has curves and sweeping lanes and on and off ramps to several different highways. Very confusing. In that unfamiliar car that is bigger than what I’m used to and has dark, tinted windows in the back that you can’t see anything from. Phew.
Anyway, I brought us home safely, we’ll do some driving practice on Monday, and I found the car’s manual online and started reading it.
Then we both went out for a walk/run:
When I cam back home my husband was incomplete overwhelm again and lunch wasn’t ready yet so I got to take my shower before lunch. Nice.
Lunch was ragû from leftover duck’s breast with spaghetti and tomato sauce. My husband had also grated some pretty ripe pecorino cheese:
In the picture there is no cheese. I really should have left it like that.
Turned out the cheese tasted really foul and we both decided not to finish what was on our plates. Sad.
It was already pretty late, I had wild plans to start making the annual hefezopf early but couldn’t get myself moving. My husband had two of his friends over. We expected them at 4. The first one rang the doorbell at 2.45, just as my husband was taking a nap.
At that point my mood was not the best and I decided I really needed some comfort ice cream, so I walked to the nearby supermarket.
Half a bag of potato chips and half a pint of ice cream later I felt a little better but then I basically waited for our guests to leave again. In between I went to my weekly writer’s meeting and knitted a bit and finished a sock:
I’m not all that happy with it, I think it is not only too long but also a little too wide. I’m thinking of knitting the second one differently and then ripping the one out that I like less.
I made frozen pizza for my husband and his friends, I talked briefly with the boy who had to endure my cranky self and then, finally, I went to the basement for the food processor. My husband’s friend had already left at that point.
I schlepped it upstairs, put all the ingredients in, pushed the button and thought, „Weird, that thing is really loud today!“ I went on mixing and putting eggs in and such, until, the machine started reeking of burnt oil. That was the point where I decided to turn it off and do the rest of the kneading by hand.
I talked briefly with my husband, did Duolingo, started writing this post, formed the dough into braids, preheated the oven and baked the bread.
And yes, I went to bed too late again.
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