On Saturday, I moved back to Dortmund. My father and sister were gracious enough to help me, though they looked a little aghast when they saw just how many boxes I’d filled with my stuff. (It’s like they don’t know me.) But we got the cars loaded and headed out after I said a tear-filled goodbye to B. As an aside, breaking up because you know it’s the right thing to do, even though you still love each other, has to be the weirdest thing on earth. I don’t really recommend it.
In Dortmund, after struggling up five flights of stairs, I found out my key wouldn’t fit in the lock. A lot of drama later (most of it in half-intelligble German), we figured out my (elderly) landlords had been worried about me, since I hadn’t been by in so long. They forced the lock to check I wasn’t lying dead in my apartment, although I think you would have smelled that if it had been the case. They were very apologetic about forcing the lock and I soon got the new key from my downstairs neighbor. So that was good.
I think the best part of this story is that when they entered the apartment to check I wasn’t dead, they saw my assorted Mormon paraphernalia. And then, my landlords being elderly and worried, they had a new fear. Maybe I had been kidnapped by the Mormons!
Needless to say, I think the Church needs to spend some time and money on PR over here.