chesneycat

Okay, so part of it's my own fault.  I shouldn't have stayed up so late reading erotica.  Maybe the extra hour or so asleep would have been enough to stop me feeling like someone's used my eyes as tennis balls all night long, but seeing as I began the evening with every intention of being asleep by ten, perhaps not.

Oh, you want context? I'm knackered, worn out, needed a lot of sleep last night.  Did I get it? Nope.

The first person going up against my hypothetical wall is the fuckwit on a bicycle who went up and down the street ringing doorbells at 3.25 in the bloody morning.  I have no words.  No. Words.

Then there's the builders, and the binmen.  It's SATURDAY, for crying out loud!  The binmen I can forgive - we had a bank holiday last Friday, so our bins have been out of sync. But other countries have bank holidays too, and they manage to keep Saturday mornings nice and quiet!  So while the binmen escape my red-eyed wrath, whoever it is in the local council who organises their schedules does not. Especially as there were three different bins to be emptied by three different lorries, all of which arrived just after I'd dropped back to sleep after the previous disturbance. But the builders have no excuse. You've been given a bank holiday and you choose to make it up at the weekend?  Starting at half seven in the morning? Are you insane?

Next up is the car door slammer.  I don't care who you are, if your car door doesn't stay closed when you've slammed it half a dozen times, get the damned thing FIXED, don't just give it another couple of dozen tries. Hey, maybe that's why it broke in the first place?  Next time you spend ten whole minutes slamming it, expect me to appear outside to give your head the same treatment.

Finally, the two angry men who chose my window to have a blazing row outside.  Take it somewhere else and leave me in peace, please!


Anyway, I gave up in the end.  So much for sleep, so much for a lie-in.

And I still say there's something up with German milk.  It just tastes wrong.

Ha!

The milk IS different here.  And here I've been, blaming my pregnant tastebuds. The standard semi-skimmed 1.5% fat in the supermarkets isn't UHT, but it is homogenised.  Gives it that delightful taste of being just on the verge of going sour, that my Mum can never pick up due to her childhood in sweaty foreign climes... a flavour I got rather too familiar with and hence hated all through my childhood because you didn't throw out milk until SHE could taste it was off.

But there's a good side - a creamy, Jersey-cow gold-top to the whole disgusting mess - you can buy non-homogenised milk (not of the semi-skimmed variety, mind) at Rewe and at most organic supermarkets (Al-natura, I'm looking at you!).  Rewe's one tram stop further from home, and not as convenient as Edeka, Lidl or Aldi, but fuck it.  If I can actually get hold of some milk that tastes like milk SHOULD taste*, I'd go a lot further than that!



*Apparently, most US shop-bought milk is almost as bad as the European varieties, so some of you wouldn't even notice. English milk OTOH is far and away the best.  And maybe this explains why my sister stopped eating cereal when we lived in Italy...