Feeling: Lucky

I still don't have my fucking kitchen.

I went to Poco and all. Since my bank account wasn't set up at the time, Arty went ahead and set up a payment plan in his name for me. Which...honestly, I'm not sure how I could thank him for everything he's done. Everything he continues to do for us. It really goes to show how important it is to have real friends in such an apathetic world.

Anyway. They were supposed to deliver it two weeks after that. It has now been three weeks. So I've gone a full month without a refrigerator, oven, or even a washing machine. And it's not like they have a helpline that speaks English, so there's really not a lot I can do except hang on tight. Keep getting dry and canned groceries, one backpack full at a time.

It's not all bad, though. There's a whole...story that occurred on the 13th and 14th of March. See, those were when I had initially scheduled the residence permit appointments. Only, at the time, the bank had been jerking me around, medical insurance had been jerking me around, and I'd been jerked around so much by the landlord that I didn't even have proof that I had a flat. Those three things are pretty fucking critical for residency permits, especially for freelancers.

Things were looking...really bad. Arty initially wanted to just not go to the appointments, and try to reschedule for later...but, the next appointment wouldn't have been available until fucking July. Being deported is absolutely not an option for Bella and I. I'd already sworn I wouldn't go back, it's just...not safe enough. Arty seemed sure that we'd be fine, that we wouldn't be deported even if we stayed over the visa limit. But the night before the appointment, I got this awful, awful feeling (actually it was more like a panic attack) that I needed to go, if only to explain the situation to the officer and beg for some kind of clemency.

And even though Arty had work that day, that's pretty much exactly what I did. And you know what, I dunno if I can properly describe how goddamn nerve wracking it is to ride a bus route you've never been on, in a country where you don't speak the language, to go to an administrative office where no one speaks English, all to beg for some more time from people you've never met.

But I fucking did it.

(With Arty's help over the phone, but still.)

And the resolution to that whole fucking adventure - which I otherwise undertook alone - was that I managed to get an appointment set for tomorrow, instead. And thank fuck, Arty and I got all the papers I need sorted just last night. So we're as good as we're gonna get.

At this point, I actually feel...kind of good about things? I mean for us personally, the rest of the world is pretty fucked right now. But I knew that was going to happen no matter what I do. Ever since the election, the plan has always been to find a little shoebox in Germany for us to shelter from this storm in. And maybe it's because I've been able to take my medication again, but I haven't been quite so anxious as usual lately. I've also been talking to some of the devs who worked on a game I really liked - I'm not entirely sure I can name it since I signed an NDA and all - but they seem really interested in some ideas I've had kicking around in my head for the last few months. And maybe even more importantly, I've been able to find my groove with writing again. Back to a smooth, consistent 1000 words a day, baby.

So I guess where I'm at right now is...well, for one thing, being pissed that I still don't have a damn kitchen, but other than that? I'm working on a few cool projects for some cool people. I have free time in the day. I live in a country that isn't on fucking fire. My wife and I are safe, and even if I'm kind of anxious about money, I'm not in any immediate danger like I have been for the past five or six years.

I know there's people who have it much, much worse. My friends, even some family. And I hope that soon, I can reach out to help them too.

But until then? It's...hard to complain.

Feeling: Anxious

Since Wednesday - about four days ago - I've been living in an empty flat.
When we first got here, there was nothing but the air mattress and some nonperishable foodstuffs we brought. The flat doesn't have a kitchen, most of the rooms don't have lights - there's not even any curtains. Spacious, though, which I guess will be good in the long run. There's also a functional bathroom, although the shower leaks something fierce.

We should have had a kitchen by time of writing. Alas, the furniture store - Poco, I think it's called - keeps cancelling on us. Since my wife suffers Type 1 Diabetes, this is a pretty major issue. For one thing we need a fridge to store her insulin reserves. For another, she needs a steady supply of food to keep her blood sugar up. I think we're managing okay for now, since we do have some canned soup and cereal and all, but the milk already tastes like it's starting to go, and eating cold soup out of a can every night is a bit tiresome.

Arty's been great, though. I really don't think we could do this without him. Not only did he take us in while we waited for our flat to be available, but he takes time out of his day to drive us places and get things like furniture or lunch when we need it. Just the other day, I bought a desk and chair from IKEA - nice ones, no more of that flimsy cheap "stopgap" bullshit. I plan to stay here a long time. And with those things, I'm pretty sure I can finally start working again, which means earning the money we need to make the rest of this work. So the rest should fall into place from here - we'll probably be getting some light fixtures today, and I'm hoping we can have the kitchenette put in next Monday, if not sooner.

The thing that's got Arty and my wife anxious, though, is that our appointments to apply for residency have definitely fallen through, thanks to a delay where the landlord initially cancelled our contract because we "didn't sign it quickly enough." Nevermind the fact that the contract said we had plenty of time to sign it. That delayed our move-in date by a full week, which means I don't have the paperwork that the immigration office is going to be asking for - not soon enough, anyway.
And that'd be whatever I guess? Except these appointments take months to open up. I have one set for March 14th, which I scheduled all the way back in December. There's almost no way our visas will hold out till we get to see anybody.

Thankfully I do think all is not completely lost here. For one thing, I can still schedule a new appointment, and as long as I explain that I'm still waiting on that, I've heard that I can get some wiggle room. There's also nothing strictly stopping me from renewing the Schengen Visa, assuming American-German relations haven't completely detiriorated by the time I file. And finally, there's the job seeker permit that Germany offers - I graduated uni last year, and while they're holding my diploma ransom to the tune of ~6000$, I do still have my transcripts that show I graduated, which auto-qualifies me for that permit.
It's definitely still nerve-wracking, though. We can't go back, and to lose even an inch of purchase after this leap of faith across an entire ocean is downright terrifying. But no matter what happens, I'll keep my love safe. Some way, somehow.