I, my friends, can be a lot of things. There are a lot of adjectives used to describe lil' ol' me. Among this long list of adjectives are words like forgetful, clumsy, and in some cases downright helpless.
Since arriving in Germany in August I haven't been given a church calling. I was fine with this, as we travel a lot and my German is still not at the place it should be. In fact, it was only last week that I was finally assigned to be a visiting teacher. (For those of you who aren't Mormon "Callings" are assignments you receive in church to help out, such as leading the music during sacrament meeting or teaching Sunday school. "Visiting Teaching" is something we do amongst the women of our church - two of us are teamed up to go visit with another woman to talk, catch up, and offer any help or service to that person.
So, I exchanged emails with my visiting teaching companions and was told to meet at a certain address at 10:30 on Tuesday morning. No problem, I thought, and this morning just before ten I unlocked my bike from it's post outside and rode off towards my destination.
Did I mention riding a bicycle in a city you're not entirely familiar with is really scary? Sometimes there's a bike lane, sometimes there isn't, cars are everywhere, and all of the street names are in German? Needless to say, I ended up very lost, very fast. I didn't have anyone's phone number, either, because I am an idiot. Through some miracle I ended up at the proper address at about 10:40/10:45 - late, but at least I made it, right? I was frazzled from the journey and out of breath from rushing, but I was there.
Oh wait. I FORGOT THE LAST NAME OF THE PERSON I WAS VISITING, so I had no idea what apartment she was in. I asked a kind elderly woman who was walking in if she knew anyone by that name, and although she couldn't remember which apartment exactly, she recalled the floor she'd seen her on often.
Queue a very embarrassed Daryl knocking blindly on doors on the third floor. D:
Upon one door opening, the man I encountered there told me that yes indeed, the person I was searching for, Emily, did live there. He invited me in and started up a conversation. I was there 10 minutes, speaking in very broken German to this guy, until he finally told me that Emily was a thirteen year old Roman Catholic who was currently at school. The Emily I was looking for was pretty, in her mid-twenties, and had a baby girl.
So. Wrong place.
Sad to say, at this point I gave up. I marched myself over to the nearest starbucks and ordered a light blueberry muffin and a hazelnut hot chocolate. I am sad and disappointed that I let them down and hope they don't think me too much of a flake.
Maybe this is why I don't have a calling.