A DAY IN HELL

All this saga about my mortgage and I went to bed past 4 am. Not good for my looks and totally not good for my mood. Crap!

My day was all planned:

8:00 - drive girls to school

9:00 - go with GC to the dolphinarium

11:00 moroccan bath at Dessange

13:00 lunch with Francine

15:00 \pick up children at school

Plans not always come true, and I confess my day was a bit different from this.

I could not get up before 10 am. FAbio even took the kids to school. That was nice of him.

At 10 am I woke up to go to my moroccan bath. Tired, exhausted, I fell on the stairs. When I screamed, my maid thought it was my dog complaining about something. Great!! My help signals are similar to Dog bark.

I shake it off and drive to Dessange. 2 minutes before I get there, I figure out I forgot my gloves at home. By now I have 10 of them, and it seems I am about to acquire the 11th.

Francine, who promised to be there early, was late and arrived right on time, without a minute to spare or to chit chat. She looks even more tired than me, so I let her get the best therapist.

We start our moroccan bath. The heat is so unbearable that my therapist ( the not so good one) leaves me all by myself in the steam room. So I am the client and she is the one going out for fresh air, while I sweat in the darn hot room.

After waiting for a long time ( I keep telling her it is to hot and there is no need to cook our skin before the scrub), I hear her coming back from one of her escapades.

- Where were you?

When she did not reply, I decide to open my eyes and see what is happening, where is she and what is she doing. Imagine my surprise when I see right in front of me a strange woman, standing beside my bed, staring at me. Being Brazilian, I immediately think I am being robbed. Lucky for me, I am only wearing these disposable underwear - which I will surrender with no fight, if it come to that. Thinking about all of it, I raise my voice:

- What are you doing here? Who are you? and what do you want?

- I am here for the sauna.

SAUNA?? In my moroccan bath room? No way, Jose.

I kicked her out with no remorse. When my therapist arrived, I was fuming. The procedure has several objectives. It relaxes you, cleans your body and gets rid of the dead skin. Of course I could not relax any more. I kept thinking what did she really want... what was she doing in my room?

I spent the rest of the time worried, stressed and upset.

I complained, did not give a cent in tip and left the salon. At least Francine and I would have a good lunch, chat a bit, have some fun. I am all excited about rescuing the little fun I can from this day when I reverse my car, an arab lady reverses her...and CAPUM we crash the cars.

Before I have time to process what happened, an arab guy comes along. And another one. And they all start talking in Arabic. I kept repeating: Speak English, please, I want to understand what you are saying...

I call Francine, I need some moral support. If you live in an arab country, there are some things you learn very quickly:

- in an impasse, the arab is always right

- if there is a problem, the arabs will come along and stick out for the other arab

- every time there was a crash, the forener was wrong, and the arab right, even when it was not true!

I embraced myself and hoped for the better (expectinh the worse).

After a long discussion (between the arabs, because I could not understand a thing), it is decided we have to go to the Police Station.

When I get to the Police station, I notice I have no drivers license on me. DARN! It is 1 pm. Schools finish around this time, so I say I have to pick my kids up and run out of the station. I leave Francine at the station as a guarantee I will come back. I drive home, get my license and run back to the Traffic Department.

When I come back, the Station had changed. It was a big party with everyone laughing, chatting and having a good time. When I look closer, I notice Francine is the centre of attention (why it does not surprise me??)

When she comes over and gives me a hug, the policeman say:

- Ah! You are all friends?

- No. I am her buddy ( Francine explains and point at me)

The arabs were all very confused because since I left the Police Station, my French friend and the lady who was in the accident with me, became best friends. In another post I will make sure I tell this tale in detail, because Francine is someone out of these world.

The other driver was very honest and described the situation very accurately and in detail. The police declared us both guilty, which meant we had to fix our own car. Good for me, as her car was far more expensive! We paid the tax ( about 40 american dollars each) and left the place.

I was starving. I did not have breakfast and until then, did not have a single thing to bite. Fran and I went to the supermarket, ate something very quickly at the food court and went our separate ways.

My head was so sore, I could swear there was a whole tribe of native Brazilians playing drum inside it.

I am sure tomorrow will be a better day