Sucks. Big time. You know what I mean, all the boring useless crap like sorting out health insurance and opening and closing bank accounts and general useless boring crap. And Sweet Baby Jesus Lord, is there a lot more of it to do over here. I'm never moving house again. Except of course that I am. Again. In two weeks. Or at least I will be if I ever find a fucking place to live.
Hopefully, hopefully I have a place sorted, though that might not be avaiable til mid-October, by which point I'll be so bloody fed up I'll be ready for the hills. I'm just hoping it'll be okay becuase I think any time I spend on Wggesucht is damaging to my health. Seriously, will noone, NOONE, pick up on the irony of writing a three paragraph description about how "unkompliziert" their flatshare is? Christ Almighty, it's enough to make me miss the mad estate agents of Dublin who used to show us round flats (after the initial wait of an hour whilst he went back to the office to get the right keys) that had knives in the toilet bowl.
On the plus side, the weather is still nice, I'm going to tapas in a bit, and someone wonderful made me a yummy burger yesterday. All is not lost, all is in fact going pretty okay.