Queue the 'Sanford and Son' theme song

I have never been OCD as far as cleanliness and organization. I require a modicum of cleanliness in the bathroom and there are separate piles for dirty clothes although clean clothes may get folded but remain on the floor in piles waiting to make it to the wardrobe if I got distracted, like...
with the internet
or the phone
or travel planning
or flossing my teeth.

I make certain concessions here in the Fatherland for spaces that others can see--I keep the balkon design simplistic and orderly. I finally got patio furniture last weekend that was put out over the weekend, as well as my first tomato plants of the season. My landlady has never set foot in the apartment since she rented it to me, nor has anyone else except my close work colleagues who were visiting for a specific purpose, like to set something up in the apartment, or, of course D who whines and then does the dishes sitting in the sink.

In my almost four years in DE, I haven't ever entertained at home, and my visitors tend to be of the same nature, that their spare cash goes toward travels, and they would not think twice about sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag, or going into a cupboard to search for something, because if you are in my house obviously there is nothing to hide.

I am also an only child and have grown up with the mentality of 'well, if I kick my shoes off in the hallway, I am the only one who will move them. I have no shoe fairy to pick them up and it's my own damn fault if I trip over them anyway, so there they will stay until I put them on again.'

So now queue the tune. The place is a mess even for me for a few reasons:
1. I spent two weeks in the US so some new things are sitting around.
2. I go back to the US for another two week the next weekend.
3. There have been some organizational work changes last week that have changed my whole outlook on things. I've been in a good mood so I've been tackling paperwork.
4. Due to 4, I've also been moved by the Holy Spirit to plan the rest of my holidays for the year. So the place is strewn with guidebooks, maps, and sheets of paper with ferry schedules as I try to bang some things out.

So why is this a problem?

As I come home from Polish class tonight at 21.30 I spot a black thing on my balkon. We've had a lot of rain and wind today, so I figure it's a black plastic bag. Upon arriving home I peek outside the sliding door as there is a tiny bit of light outside. But it's not a plastic bag, it's a black cat.

I live on the floor above the ground floor, let's say at least 10 feet above the ground. I have never come home to a cat on the balkon and have no idea how it got there, and worse, how it will get back to where it came from, which is the ground level where it can walk on its little ramp up to the other balkon where it lives.

As I open the sliding door it starts meowing holy hell. Then I am briefly confused, as I think perhaps it is not the one downstairs but one of the random ones outside and perhaps lacking in some important shot. It comes to the doorway and continues to shout at me, like I had anything to do with the situation. I walk away, but it won't come into the apartment. I'm now worried as it's after 21, and I am not sure if I should ring someone's bell as it is late. Fortunately my neighbor appears on her Balkon, perhaps hearing the meowing, and starts to call for 'Luna.' Well, this is a good sign as that is the one she is usually calling for. Luna answers her, and she keeps calling, but doesn't figure out where she is. "um, hallo?"

So she suggests if she can come get her. So she walks through the squalid and out of order apartment to get to my balcon. I don't even want to know what she thought of this, as this whole area is overwhelmingly orderly. A blade of grass who does not follow the rules has no chance here.

I manage to stumble out with 'Sorry, I just got home, I'm not sure how long she was there--or how she got there." At least she looked dry. She picks her up and the cat shouting instantly ceases. She answers that she thinks she came up from the roof. Being that her apartment is on an equal level as mine, I have no idea how she got to the roof, but I'm sure this woman's delicate sensibilities were already offended enough having to invite herself over to my disorderly apartment to fetch her cat, and then to listen to rambling bad German on top of it all without me inquiring to the roof question. I am *the* non-German in the building and I imagine one of the few Americans she has ever had to deal with and boy am I doing my country proud tonight.