70

It has been a week. One long, stressful, joyous, tense and completely upside down kind of a week, both in my personal life and the lives of many in my home country.

Let me start with what’s closest to me, like about five feet away.


Excuse the mess, I am in the middle of moving.

I scored these two gorgeous chairs on eBay, from a very nice German woman who had to sell them because she was moving in with her boyfriend. They’re actual antiques, not fakes, and positioned in the living room of my new 120-year-old apartment, they will look superb.

Speaking of my apartment, my kitchen has now been ordered from IKEA, and it will be delivered to my new place in the last week of November, checking one major item off of my long and very expensive to-do list.

The design shown here is what I purchased, minus those shelves because they were out of stock. So I’ll have to find another solution for storing my dinnerware. Also, I still haven’t yet bought the oven, hood, or a dishwasher.

But hey, at least the frame and basic functions will be present.

I bought the refrigerator this past weekend, and with the help of Carlos – a.k.a. My Handsome Spaniard, a.k.a. My Moving and Assembly Hero, a.k.a. The best guy I’ve ever been with – and his cousin Cheri’s husband, Jörg, it is already safe and sound at my new place.

I didn’t get photos of the actual one, but this is it. I absolutely love it. 🙂

These things are what I’m focusing on right now, as I am still sitting my old apartment surrounded by boxes, bags of packing material, and other things encroaching on my everyday living space. I really hate having to do the crab walk just to get from the kitchen to my bedroom, but I just have to keep reminding myself that it will all be worth it in the end.

I guess that sentiment is a good segue into the broader goings-on that have contributed to my flurry of emotions.

Joe Biden won the election, and my country erupted into a giant dance party.

Boston:

Philadelphia:

New York City:

Miami:

All over the United States:

Düsseldorf, Germany, inside of the cramped apartment of a certain American expat who never drinks beer, but her boyfriend left it there when he went home, so it was all she had:


Imagine fun, jubilant music playing in the background and a woman dancing in sweatpants, and you pretty much have the idea.

I don’t remember the last time I felt so proud of my country, and so proud to be an American.  Especially as an American living in a foreign country.

When you live in the US, of course you’re closer to the undesirables and the crazies who support that man, but you can also find solace and community with the many others who don’t. You’re in this together, and you can find ways to cope and support each other, because that is what Americans do.

As someone who is an ocean away from such a support system, let me just say that the embarrassment of the Trump administration is felt three-fold when you live in a foreign country, especially with people as politically aware as Germans. When you tell people you’re American, Trump is typically the first subject that comes up, followed by you feeling obligated as an American citizen, a representative of your country, not to mention as someone who sure as hell didn’t vote for the guy, to apologize for actions taken by your country that had nothing to do with you.

Should you get into an argument, they will use it generously as fodder, painting you with the same brush as those Confederate flag-waving white supremacists whom you loathe, and telling them any different is futile.

But now, this has a chance to change. Finally, I can hold my head up high, look people in the eyes, point to Joe Biden and Kamala Harris – the first black female to hold the office of Vice President – and say, “Yes. I am an American,” and feel proud to do so.

So you are goddamn right, after days of just wishing CNN would call Pennsylvania already, I became a loud, happy lunatic when Wolf Blitzer cut in and made the call for President-Elect Joe Biden. I cried. I jumped up and down and cheered. I called my mother. I called Carlos. I called my mother again. I put on music, cracked open the one alcoholic beverage I had on hand, and danced my ass off among the piles of boxes. Nothing, not a goddamn thing was going to bring me down.

Now that Trump is acting like the spoiled child that he is, he reminds me of when my youngest nephew was about 7, and one of his friends happened to win a game they played. He would throw a tantrum, cry, scream, and accuse his friend of cheating, when all they were doing was simply playing the game.

The difference is, my nephew never had access to the nuclear codes.

So yes, I am worried. But I am optimistic, because my optimism with this  election issue has, so far, paid off.

I was determined to remain optimistic that voters would overcome the GOP’s underhanded obstacles such as tampering with USPS processes and property and demonizing mail-in voting in the middle of a pandemic, and here we are.

Now, in regards to Trump’s babyish obstinacy and narcissistic defiance, I have resolved to remain optimistic that the justice and rule of law of the United States of America will prevail as well.

We’re just in for one hell of a 70 days.