There are only two good things about the Zurich airport: the arrivals gate and the pretzel stand. The arrivals gate is obviously a good thing because you get to see loved ones again! I don't think I've ever seen someone sullenly standing at the arrivals gate, holding a painted sign that says "GO HOME". Yes, the arrivals gate is a very good thing. The pretzel stand, however, is a necessary thing because after you've reluctantly and tearfully waived good-bye to loved ones at the departures gate, it is of urgent importance that you stuff your face with warm and contorted carbs, as soon as possible, in order to dull that gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach.
Guess which one I had to do today.
But you know Internet, though today's departure was bitter, it also had an extra helping of sweetness because I have the opportunity to go back home in one month (!!) for one month (!!). This unexpected chance arose earlier this year and I seized it. Aggressively pursued it, if you will. And boy did it ever help that today we got to say 'see you later' instead of 'good-bye'.
Of course given all of this, Mom and I still sat on my balcony last night, crying that today had come too quickly. But if you're going to sit on your balcony at 12:00 a.m., tearfully honking your nose in soggy hankies while trying to remember the bright side, it does help if there is a little bit of brightness on your balcony to encourage these thoughts.
Of course we did a lot of adventuring with Mom and Dad, and I will get to those tales, but first I'd like to talk about my geraniums. And my lavender. Yes, it's true, Dan and I now care for plant life and it's all thanks to Mom and Dad.
So, am I a good gardener?
Well, if managing to kill all forms of cacti and bamboo are a measure of success, then yes I am an excellent gardener. If they're not, then I'm the worst. Gardening can suck it. And since my dead black thumb can even kill plastic house plants, I have definitely shyed away from incorporating any form of plant life onto our balcony. This means that our deck looked totally ghetto and we were dragging down the curb appeal of our apartment complex.
All around me the Swiss pressed their green thumbs into their apartment planter boxes and red, pink, white, and purple geraniums sprouted with zealous vitality. Some other plants grew too, but I don't know what they are. They're alive though, so that's nice.
Then there was our deck: a gaping hole in an otherwise flawless smile.
As we've already established that I really have no shame, I will give you all a glimpse of what our deck usually looks like.
We have ugly ol' chairs holding wet towels.
Cat tunnels, rolling aimlessly about.
Drying racks holding swim suits.
Forgotten cat toys.
A pile of blankets and pillows where one cat is usually nestled, watching the world.
Kickeroos with the stuffing kicked out of them.
And the sick twist who attacked them.
(But gah! The cutest sick twist you've ever seen, right?!)
So yeah, in case you haven't quite figured it out, our deck was basically being used as a drying room and a place for the cats to hang out. See what I mean? We were bringing the curb appeal of the building down.
But then Mom and Dad swooped in, took one look at the rest of the building, and I felt the need to shamefully shuffle my feet for allowing my dead black thumb to make concrete look even trashier than it already does. (Yo, anyone have Christmas lights I can leave up all year long?) Then they took me to the local garden centre where our only mission was to Swiss-ify the balcony.
And Internet, this garden centre was the best: they planted your flowers for you! You just pick out your flowers and the planter boxes you want, then they transplant everything, fertilize it, and you just pack the whole she-bang home with you.
Also, with Mom and Dad here, they watered these babies for me all the time.
My dead black thumb hasn't had to lift a...err...thumb.
But now, we're alone. Just the plants and me and Dan. I hope to keep these alive, because I really don't want to go back to being the most ghetto apartment in the building.
Because seriously, even the dude below us growing the huge-ass marijuana plant has a nicer looking balcony than we do.