I had grand plans to write some wonderful, pithy final post about my time in Germany that you all could read as I was winging my way across the Atlantic.

But between lugging boxes to the post, packing, weighing and repacking my suitcases and cleaning out my apartment, I couldn't find the time or the energy, so the immortal words of Erma Bombeck will have to suffice.



When you look like your passport photo, it's time to go home.