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I was lying on my back, sleeping peacefully (well apart from the fact that I was dreaming about being completely naked in my office, and boss coming in, and me trying desperately to fish for and put on a dressing gown that was on the backrest of my chair for unfathomable reasons) with two boyz sleeping on top of me. At 3.37 a.m. I was woken by the sound of dry-heaving, and then Cornelius vomited right there on the duvet. I swore horribly, switched on the light and used up all my paper tissues for cleaning up the mess. Switched off light, tried to get back to sleep. Just as I was teetering on the brink of sleep, Lucius caught and killed my right foot. Scream of pain, more swearing. Sleep impossible, so I got up at 4.20, uttering dire threats re. beating, mutilating and finally killing ze boyz, who were rather unimpressed.
Right now, Cornelius is sitting on my lap, complaining whenever I raise my head, so he can't snuggle under my chin.
Siamese. They're fur balls straight from hell.
At least today is Friday, i.e. the day when Slavica changes the bed linen. Counting my blessings here.
So that's the third night in a row with less than 6 hrs of sleep. This doesn't make me happy.
Happy or not, today I'm going to tell Ana to call the Foreign Ministry's protocol department -- they're organizing the tennis tournament -- and ask whether it's single or doubles or, if it's both, whether one can choose only to play singles. If one can't, well, I'll have to activate a few friends, because I need to practise playing doubles.
Yesterday I had a lesson with Elena -- getting back into the saddle right after falling off the horse and all that -- and she asked me whether I'd enjoyed Wednesday's game. So I said no, I really hadn't, and then we spent a nice 5 minutes practising serves and saying nasty things about Mr H. It was somewhat therapeutical. And she promised to destroy him later on, because they had a game scheduled for 7 p.m. I do hope that she succeeded.
The thing is, I might actually have to play against him at the tournament, if doubles are unavoidable. Then again, it's a clay court, which makes his serves slightly slower than the synthetic court we played on Wednesday. Plus, there's still enough time to practise returning cruel serves with Elena, because hers aren't much slower than his (height and weight is a factor, of course, but then she used to be a professional player and can beat the shit out of him, so her mean serves ought to be enough for training purposes).
Later on last night I went to the farewell party for a very nice colleague and friend from the Italian Embassy. Isabelle and Maria Angeles, i.e. two of our Belles Dames Sans Merci club, were there, and a few other nice people. I was tired and left after about an hour. Hailed a taxi and, as usual, got talking with the driver. (I like talking to taxi drivers, and besides it's Macedonian practice) This one was something else, though. It was more or less clear from the beginning that he meant to make a pass at me, but I frankly don't mind that, because it amuses me, and there's no reason to be afraid or anything. Of course I know that it's less my gorgeousness provoking such behaviour than the fact that I'm clearly a stranger and thus a possible ticket to money and/or an EU residence permit.
So he first asked me where I was from, yadda, yadda, yadda, and then proceeded to questions about my age (What? 46? You don't look a day over 30 -- Thanks, but you'd be surprised if you saw me in plain daylight) and then, rather predictably, about my marital state. I almost laughed out loud when he remarked that "by looking at me, one would never think I lived on my own" -- I suppose he must've thought that single women had some kind of ravenous, sex-deprived look about them. (Which fortunately isn't the case, or I wouldn't dare leave the house without a mask) Anyway, when I got off, he said he'd like to get together, and so I merely said "I'm sure you would, but I'm way too old for you".
For those of you who think I'm being reckless, don't worry, there's really no danger. Firstly, in a place as small as this, where 98%of the women have long hair, my short blond spikes stand out like a sore thumb, wich means that lots and lots of people know me by sight anyway. I'm using the taxi a lot, so lots and lots of drivers know where I live. Secrecy would therefore be as unnecessary as it would be useless.
Am on my second mug of tea now, and not really tired. Hopefully it's going to remain that way. Klaus arrives late tonight, so staying awake might be a bit of a problem, but maybe I'll take a little nap after coming home (tennis from 4.30 to 6), because I don't really want to fall asleep right after saying hello.
Have a great day, everybody, and thanks for all the lovely hugs you gave me yesterday!
ETA: Doomed. I'm fucking doomed. It's doubles only, and they're drawing lots to pair up the partners. Which means that, if Fate decides she has it in for me again, I might end up having to return those serves again...
Right now, Cornelius is sitting on my lap, complaining whenever I raise my head, so he can't snuggle under my chin.
Siamese. They're fur balls straight from hell.
At least today is Friday, i.e. the day when Slavica changes the bed linen. Counting my blessings here.
So that's the third night in a row with less than 6 hrs of sleep. This doesn't make me happy.
Happy or not, today I'm going to tell Ana to call the Foreign Ministry's protocol department -- they're organizing the tennis tournament -- and ask whether it's single or doubles or, if it's both, whether one can choose only to play singles. If one can't, well, I'll have to activate a few friends, because I need to practise playing doubles.
Yesterday I had a lesson with Elena -- getting back into the saddle right after falling off the horse and all that -- and she asked me whether I'd enjoyed Wednesday's game. So I said no, I really hadn't, and then we spent a nice 5 minutes practising serves and saying nasty things about Mr H. It was somewhat therapeutical. And she promised to destroy him later on, because they had a game scheduled for 7 p.m. I do hope that she succeeded.
The thing is, I might actually have to play against him at the tournament, if doubles are unavoidable. Then again, it's a clay court, which makes his serves slightly slower than the synthetic court we played on Wednesday. Plus, there's still enough time to practise returning cruel serves with Elena, because hers aren't much slower than his (height and weight is a factor, of course, but then she used to be a professional player and can beat the shit out of him, so her mean serves ought to be enough for training purposes).
Later on last night I went to the farewell party for a very nice colleague and friend from the Italian Embassy. Isabelle and Maria Angeles, i.e. two of our Belles Dames Sans Merci club, were there, and a few other nice people. I was tired and left after about an hour. Hailed a taxi and, as usual, got talking with the driver. (I like talking to taxi drivers, and besides it's Macedonian practice) This one was something else, though. It was more or less clear from the beginning that he meant to make a pass at me, but I frankly don't mind that, because it amuses me, and there's no reason to be afraid or anything. Of course I know that it's less my gorgeousness provoking such behaviour than the fact that I'm clearly a stranger and thus a possible ticket to money and/or an EU residence permit.
So he first asked me where I was from, yadda, yadda, yadda, and then proceeded to questions about my age (What? 46? You don't look a day over 30 -- Thanks, but you'd be surprised if you saw me in plain daylight) and then, rather predictably, about my marital state. I almost laughed out loud when he remarked that "by looking at me, one would never think I lived on my own" -- I suppose he must've thought that single women had some kind of ravenous, sex-deprived look about them. (Which fortunately isn't the case, or I wouldn't dare leave the house without a mask) Anyway, when I got off, he said he'd like to get together, and so I merely said "I'm sure you would, but I'm way too old for you".
For those of you who think I'm being reckless, don't worry, there's really no danger. Firstly, in a place as small as this, where 98%of the women have long hair, my short blond spikes stand out like a sore thumb, wich means that lots and lots of people know me by sight anyway. I'm using the taxi a lot, so lots and lots of drivers know where I live. Secrecy would therefore be as unnecessary as it would be useless.
Am on my second mug of tea now, and not really tired. Hopefully it's going to remain that way. Klaus arrives late tonight, so staying awake might be a bit of a problem, but maybe I'll take a little nap after coming home (tennis from 4.30 to 6), because I don't really want to fall asleep right after saying hello.
Have a great day, everybody, and thanks for all the lovely hugs you gave me yesterday!
ETA: Doomed. I'm fucking doomed. It's doubles only, and they're drawing lots to pair up the partners. Which means that, if Fate decides she has it in for me again, I might end up having to return those serves again...
