I am heading into the Eastern Bloc on a train. A fellow passenger invites me to a party. I go over but she isn't home yet, so I let myself in and do some snooping. Her dishwasher is filled with cups, three deep in every direction, on both racks. It is TOTALLY IRRITATING.
You scold me for texting during dinner. You haven’t had a phone in over a year, you say. Your existence has been immeasurably improved, you say. I roll my eyes.
It takes me forever to pack up all my things. The chambermaid comes in to clean the bathroom. I sing old jazz songs as I pack, and she sings perfect harmonies. I find some underpants that are not mine under the bed, but I decide not to mention them.
You stop by my office, and spot a stack of coats we have ready for the donation box. After digging for a while, you find your ratty old blue coat at the bottom of the pile, and you ask me to give it back. I refuse.
A German farm family invites me in for a visit. I pull my bike into their living room, and we have tea. When it is time to leave, their young daughter sings an aria in the mudroom.
