Heavy black plasticky winter coat with a three-cornered tear from the last time I wore it, when winter came unexpectedly back.
Stack of trashy books in English and German in the yellow carry bag from Kaiser's with kittens on it.
Books for the library, books to be boxed for home,
books to return to friends, a few books to still read.
The lovely round glass butter dish I bought.
The waffle iron we used once. Not like the one at home.
Not worth it. Here we eat pastries, freshly bought.
My sister-in-law's Nordic walking sticks. Have to clean off last autumn's woodsy mud before I give them back.
Boxed board games and card games. Some never unsealed.
Lists. Lists on little square papes, on big sheets of scrap paper, floating around the living room and stuck to the wall in the hall.
Bags. Nylon bags, canvas bags, shopping bags, carry bags, purses, backpacks, laptop bags, shopping carts, suitcases.
Our neighbors' leavings. 15 bottles of wine from Dipesh, who left this morning. Some he inherited from Eva, who first left months ago. Milk, an endive, some lettuce from Rafael and Elizabeth, who only left for the weekend.
Tiny glasses and cups that were in the place we got here. Much larger tumblers and mugs I went out and bought.
Boxes of tea we will never finish, except for the peppermint which I can't restock fast enough.
Max's things we're supposed to box and send for him.
Folders, binders, notebooks on the floor in the hall.
Clothes on the floor in the hall and by the bed.
In the living room, our birthday presents, some still piled there.
Cords. Power cords, mostly white but green and gray and black as well, plugs and plug adapters.
The red couch. With my family on it. Staring into the glow of their laptops.
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