My Rough Day

Everyone has rough days. Especially expats. Sometimes it's hard to distinguish from a normal bad day that could happen anywhere or a rough day that could have been avoided if you were living in your home country. My recent rough day was a combination of both.

After leaving a frustrating day of work, I came home to find my mailbox wasn't empty. This was exciting because it's been rather empty later (sad but true). However, when I reached in and saw not one but two letters from the Deutsche Bahn I had a feeling something was up.

You see, a few weeks back I wrote a letter to cancel my train card because I decided I didn't need it and I could always get a new one if the need arose for me to need 25% off train rides. To explain in full, I first signed up for the trial card, which last four months, when my mom and grandma visited. I did not cancel six weeks prior to the end date so it automatically renewed. I was not happy, but not devastated. I then went in my Google calendar and made a reminder to cancel the card for next year. I went on to use the card enough that it paid for itself in savings. I can't stop starting sentences with I.

That little reminder popped up at the beginning of August and I still was unsure if I wanted to cancel or not. I kept waiting until I finally decided I did indeed want to cancel. And, since I had already canceled my sister's card from when she visited, I already had the letter formatted and just needed to pop in my info. After signing my letter, buying my 58¢ stamp, and running home to get an envelope, I slid that bad boy into the mailbox knowing I cut it really close by sending it the very last day possible. It's all about that postmark.

Apparently not.

I selected the thinner DB envelope and was horrified to see:

"Too bad that you wanted to cancel your card. It's too late. We have to receive the letter of cancelation six weeks before the card expires. We'll go ahead and just cancel your card for next year. Enjoy riding the rails."

That's my own special translation just for you. (But's it's actually quite close to the original...)

And then I opened the next envelope with my brand new card. That's where I saw my error. I seem to have had the new validity date in my head and not the expiration date. Ugh. One day is a big deal.

I don't want to really admit this, but I kind of had a child-like tantrum at this point. The German rail system bureaucracy was a catalyst and release for the mixed emotions I always seem to have in my German life. I guess I needed a reason to cry. I even threw the letters and card around the apartment a few times. I also dramatically threw myself on the bed and then watched my mascara drip down my face. (Why did I switch away from waterproof?)

Then I put myself together and decided this will force me to plan some kind of train trip. Fine. OK. Time to regroup and go to yoga. Someone clearly needed to relax! Someone also needed to do laundry. I threw in a quick load so it would be done by the time I returned. I figured I would be ready to go right to bed, so I could just hang up the laundry to dry and be sleeping within 20 minutes.

This is where my rough day got rougher.

I walked in the door still proud of myself for all of my yoga progress in the arm balance sector, when I noticed that the washing machine was still going. Erm, ok? The cycle is normally an hour, which means it should have already stopped spinning.

After waiting another quarter of an hour the elapsed time now totaled two hours. Double the time needed. I didn't understand it, but I decided to just read my book -- my book that I don't like and won't even tell you what it is but I'm desperate for books. Now we started reaching the three-hour mark. I was over-tired and not in the mood. I started pushing buttons. It just kept spinning and spinning. Then it would stop. And then return to spinning in the opposite direction. A watched washing machine doesn't stop. I couldn't handle the fakeouts. I started pushing more buttons.

I couldn't tell what was going on. It didn't really seem to be broken. This was also around the time I noticed that the light for "fast washing" was not lit. Could it be that the "fast" cycle was really one hour and the normal is more than three?

I texted my German to see if he was still up. Maybe he could offer telephone assistance? And then I pushed more buttons. Finally, the door opened. And water came out. I did not expect the door to actually open when it was still half-full with water. Fail? The German was up. I wasn't in a position to respond.

I quickly closed the door again, thinking it would undo what I had done. That didn't work. I opened it again and more water poured out. Towels were needed. Many towels. (Thank goodness I wasn't doing a towel load!) I started pulling out clothes and wringing them out as best I could. I was horrified when my whites looked blue. I gathered as much as I could and lifted the basket with all my strength and ran to the kitchen. Yep, ran. Two steps in and the basket broke (too heavy!) and I slipped. (Duh, water was pouring out of the laundry basket!) I caught myself on the sink, but it hurt. And, now, I too, was soaking wet.

I started crying. More water! Kind of like when a child thinks it's hurt but is really just scared. Why me?!?

But I knew I had to be an adult and deal with it on my own.

I wrung out the clothes as best as I could. I placed more towels out on the ground because there was a steady drip coming from the "drying" rack. Even the knee highs were soaked. I considered setting an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night to check the dehumidifier in case it was overflowing. I was still crying.

There were water drips all over the place at this point. I had to triage some really wet and heavy things to the bathroom. And then I needed more towels to sop up around the washer and there wasn't much space to dry those out. I didn't want to welcome more silverfish by leaving them on the floor of course.

I woke up hoping it had been a dream. I wish. I first checked to see what kind of bruising damage there was to my arm. None. It was one of those that hurts all over but doesn't show any signs that something traumatic happened. Next, I wandered to the kitchen. Everything was still sopping wet. Those knee highs? I squeezed more water out of them. I emptied the dehumidifier and set of for a day of meetings of work. The one day it would have been nice to run home at lunch to check on the situation. Just my luck.

That evening, I started to finally see some drying progress. And, because I needed to know, I threw in a load of all of the towels WITH the "fast" button pressed and it was done within the hour.

Since I always need to have closure, I'm going to go with the fact that my landlady, who spent half of her vacation in the (my?) apartment cleaning last week cleaning, must have clicked that button off because I certainly did not. But I am glad to know that the machine is not broken. And I am also glad that my white clothes are not actually blue. Apparently I have never seen white so wet before but I now know that really wet white does indeed look blue.

Thank you for reliving my rough day with me. I'm happy again. Who wants to go on a train ride?

P.S. In case you were wondering, in my lifetime I have also had a dishwasher overflow because I put the wrong soap in by mistake. Twice.