And, you know what? Fuck allergies. Allergies are for the weak. Allergies are for people whose parents treated them like bubble boys their whole childhood. Eat some dirt. Roll around in the hay. You will grow up tough. Except, apparently not. What a hilarious thing it would be if I - master of refusing to take an aspirin for anything short of a broken limb - was allergic to fucking antibiotics. I'm sure I must have taken them for something before, but perhaps this German one was a special fuck-you-in-the-ass blend. I am covered in hives and I am itching and okay I guess allergies can happen to anyone. Anyway who cares because at least it doesn't hurt to pee. Sigh.
Anywho. I am on day three of this weekend, because I did a bunch of overtime last week and my boss told me to take Friday off. I am still unhappy. I still don't want to go to work. I have spent my entire "weekend" looking at different places around the world to go. I've reached that point now, the same point I reached several times before. I know I am going to quit my job in the next 6 months or so. I know I am going to leave Germany. I don't know where I am going to go next, but I need to go. I also know I will almost certainly never live in a city as affordable or with as great of a music/clubbing scene as Berlin over the last three years. But I am done. Work has exhausted me to the point that I don't even want to go out on the weekend any more. All I have is fantasizing about wherever I go next. It doesn't really matter where it is, because for the first six months it will be amazing. I won't hate my job because it will be new. I won't hate the place because it will be new. And then I will hate it again. Because that brief feeling of freedom that I enjoy when I move will vanish. And I will feel shackled again. But at least for a moment I won't spend every night and every weekend wishing I didn't have to go back to work.