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Ded from heat
Jul. 16th, 2010 11:05 amNot quite ded yet, but well on my way. Bloody hell, it's hot here. 38° every day, and while it's quite bearable during the night, the days are rather hellish. I left the a/c switched on today at home, because Slavica is there, and even though ze boyz don't like it, I can't very well leave her to work in this heat, much though I love ze boyz. Besides, they can always crawl into their carriers, which are stored in the wardrobe, and avoid the draft if they want to.
When I went to the French reception on Wednesday, Blerim the driver picked me up at 7.15 p.m., and I said, "Wow, it's really nice and cool now." The thermometer showed 31° -- goes to show how extremely hot it had been before. 39° are cruel and unusual, although the latter isn't really true for Skopje, because the summers here just *are* like that .
There was another reception yesterday, a much smaller one at the EU ambassador's residence, to say goodbye to the head of the delegation's political department. I'd bought lovely underway yesterday -- a Slovenian producer named LISCA, and the stuff is amazingly cheap considering just how well-made and pretty it is -- among other things a cream-coloured set that looks like spiderweb. Verrrrrry sexy, but since it's almost 100% transparent, putting it on under a transparent cream-coloured top is not a good idea, at least not for an official function. So I opted for a satin top, which still showed enough of the bra to make it moderately sexy, but not too outrageously so.
Flirted shamelessly with the Slovenian Ambassador, who's totally gay and just as lovely. It all started on Tuesday, when he told me how much he enjoyed swimming in his pool, and I said, "You've got a pool? Can I marry you?"
So yesterday I was balancing a plate of food right in front of my enticingly spiderweb-encased cleavage, and he looked at both plate and cleavage, saying "Mmmh, that looks veeeeery appetizing!" Scandalized looks from the lady standing next to us, so I replied, "Yes doesn't it darling, but you're only allowed to look, not touch." Lady looked even more scandalized, and we snickered like schoolchildren.
Oh, and a miracle has happened: boss has extended his holiday till the end of July. I'm glad I prompted him to do so, because he certainly needs to recharge his batteries, and I'm only leaving on the 31st anyway. Apart from being good for him, his absence also means that we have enough time for doing some work here at the embassy: the office for technical cooperation closed its doors on 30 June (the lovely Heinz is now in Addis Abeba), and the 2nd floor rooms are now ours to with as we see fit. Therefore the kitchen will be moved from the basement to the 2nd floor -- there already is a small kitchen, but I'm going to put a dishwasher and real stove in there -- the archive will be moved from the 3rd floor into the ex-basement kitchen, and the large, light and airy room on the second floor will be adapted for use as our common room, for eating and relaxing. I won't have to buy a lot of things, mostly it's armchairs and a couch for the common room, and maybe a new stove, if I'm feeling particularly generous. The furniture of the basement kitchen will be dismantled and put in storage, since it's not ours but belongs to the landlord. Bless him for agreeing to it.
Last but not least: I'm now officially giving up on the elusive Mr. H. It's just no bloody use, because either he isn't here (if I remember correctly he was absent from ~20 - 26 June, 3 - 13 July, and now again from 17 to 26 July) or I'm not here (rather meagre in comparison, 27 - 30 June, 31 July - 10 August). So that's a no-go, definitely. Yes, he's still deadly attractive, but even lethal attractiveness gets a bit old in the long run, if there's nothing else. Bugger. Then again, who knows -- usually hindsight teaches me that things went just as they were supposed to go.
ETA: Bugger. Buggeryfuckitybugger. Had to write the elusive Mr H a strictly work-related text message (really necessary. believe me.), and he calls me back, and he says with that Sauce Hollandaise voice, "And when I'm back, we must get together." Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
When I went to the French reception on Wednesday, Blerim the driver picked me up at 7.15 p.m., and I said, "Wow, it's really nice and cool now." The thermometer showed 31° -- goes to show how extremely hot it had been before. 39° are cruel and unusual, although the latter isn't really true for Skopje, because the summers here just *are* like that .
There was another reception yesterday, a much smaller one at the EU ambassador's residence, to say goodbye to the head of the delegation's political department. I'd bought lovely underway yesterday -- a Slovenian producer named LISCA, and the stuff is amazingly cheap considering just how well-made and pretty it is -- among other things a cream-coloured set that looks like spiderweb. Verrrrrry sexy, but since it's almost 100% transparent, putting it on under a transparent cream-coloured top is not a good idea, at least not for an official function. So I opted for a satin top, which still showed enough of the bra to make it moderately sexy, but not too outrageously so.
Flirted shamelessly with the Slovenian Ambassador, who's totally gay and just as lovely. It all started on Tuesday, when he told me how much he enjoyed swimming in his pool, and I said, "You've got a pool? Can I marry you?"
So yesterday I was balancing a plate of food right in front of my enticingly spiderweb-encased cleavage, and he looked at both plate and cleavage, saying "Mmmh, that looks veeeeery appetizing!" Scandalized looks from the lady standing next to us, so I replied, "Yes doesn't it darling, but you're only allowed to look, not touch." Lady looked even more scandalized, and we snickered like schoolchildren.
Oh, and a miracle has happened: boss has extended his holiday till the end of July. I'm glad I prompted him to do so, because he certainly needs to recharge his batteries, and I'm only leaving on the 31st anyway. Apart from being good for him, his absence also means that we have enough time for doing some work here at the embassy: the office for technical cooperation closed its doors on 30 June (the lovely Heinz is now in Addis Abeba), and the 2nd floor rooms are now ours to with as we see fit. Therefore the kitchen will be moved from the basement to the 2nd floor -- there already is a small kitchen, but I'm going to put a dishwasher and real stove in there -- the archive will be moved from the 3rd floor into the ex-basement kitchen, and the large, light and airy room on the second floor will be adapted for use as our common room, for eating and relaxing. I won't have to buy a lot of things, mostly it's armchairs and a couch for the common room, and maybe a new stove, if I'm feeling particularly generous. The furniture of the basement kitchen will be dismantled and put in storage, since it's not ours but belongs to the landlord. Bless him for agreeing to it.
Last but not least: I'm now officially giving up on the elusive Mr. H. It's just no bloody use, because either he isn't here (if I remember correctly he was absent from ~20 - 26 June, 3 - 13 July, and now again from 17 to 26 July) or I'm not here (rather meagre in comparison, 27 - 30 June, 31 July - 10 August). So that's a no-go, definitely. Yes, he's still deadly attractive, but even lethal attractiveness gets a bit old in the long run, if there's nothing else. Bugger. Then again, who knows -- usually hindsight teaches me that things went just as they were supposed to go.
ETA: Bugger. Buggeryfuckitybugger. Had to write the elusive Mr H a strictly work-related text message (really necessary. believe me.), and he calls me back, and he says with that Sauce Hollandaise voice, "And when I'm back, we must get together." Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
