Resting my face on an open grammar page, amidst a sea of optimistic looking text books, I have the horrible realisation that I cannot speak German. 41 days to go until I board the plane whizzing me to my new Black Forest home, and I do not know the word for light bulb, pillow case or plug socket, and I have successfully told my future landlady that I want to kiss her, instead of telling her that I look forward to seeing the kitchen.
Despair at my hopeless case continued to wash over me all evening, until I happened upon a fool proof plan; post-it notes.
Much to the horror of everyone around me, I have decided to plaster post-it note labels on everything I own, with the intention of soaking up all this extra vocabulary stress free. I refuse to see a flaw to this I-don't-speak-German-I'm-moving-to-Germany rescue remedy.
After 10 long years of attempting to master this language, a neon coloured light is twinkling at the end of the tunnel.
Buying post-its tomorrow.
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