Dia de cão!! A day from hell!!

Hoje tive a oportunidade de dormir ate um pouco mais tarde. O rapaz da franquia se ofereceu para ir para a cozinha sozinho, Fabio ofereceu de levar a Lia para os compromissos dela. 7:30 meus olhos abriram e não consegui convence-los a fechar novamente.
Todos os dias, é uma batalha para eu acordar. Hoje foi uma batalha tentar NÃO acordar!

Eu tinha uns compromissos que foram otimos, tudo correu direitinho, até eu ir buscar a Lia na loja do Fabio, para passar a tarde comigo na cozinha, me ajudando.

A primeira coisa que aconteceu foi uma pedrada no meu vidro. Sim, quebrou. Não, ninguém se machucou.
É só dinheiro - não deveria importar, se a gente tivesse algum no momento. Não é o caso.
Também foi só um quebradinho, acho que ninguém vai notar. E aqui não chove. Deixa assim mesmo.

Ai a lia começou a sua campanha infernal de férias.
Eu quero ir para o Brasil. Eu quero ir para o Canadá. Eu quero ir para o Alaska. Eu quero ir dirigindo num "road trip". Eu quero....
Eu fiquei tao zureta que perdi a saida da freeway. Aumentou o meu caminho. Faz mal não... Bora tocar a bola para a frente.

E a campanha continuava firme e forte:
Mas por que eu não posso ir? Por que vocês tem que ir junto? por que....

E eu vejo a sirene do carro de policia atrás de mim. FIU FIU FIU FIIIIU

Encostei e o carro parou bem atras de mim.

- Olá sr policial! Me meti numa encrenca, não foi?
Em termos policiais ele me respondeu:
- Você estava num pau do KCT. Não viu que o limite aqui é de 50 milhas por hora?
Não só Não tinha visto, como nunca corro e ele nunca ia acreditar que a D Lia estava me deixando louca e que obviamente a culpa e responsabilidade eram completamente dela!
Tentei explicar. Ele não entendeu muito bem e pelo jeito também não tem nenhum senso de humor.
- Carteria de motorista, documentos do carro e seguro.
Abri a bolsa toda confiante. procuro,procuro, procuro...
Não achei a carteira de motorista.
Ai procuro os documentos do carro e AHA! eles estavam no porta luvas. Vencidos. Tudo vencido. Seguro, registro do carro. Tudo.
Mas eu sei que está tudo pago, tudo em ordem.
- Seu 'puliça", então. É que. hmmmm. Eu não to achando nada. Mas está tudo em ordem. Juro.
O cara pegou a documentaçao vencida, foi pro carro dele e só me disse:
- Você poed estar com um problema enorme aqui...
Lia rolava de rir. Acho que riu mais do que estivesse vendo Monte Phyton.
Pouco depois ele volta.
Você estava correndo. Você tinha que estar com a sua carteira de motorista. Você tinha que ter prova do registro do carro com você e você tinha que estar com o comprovante do seguro... Voc6e não tinha nada disso.
Nisso eu começo freneticamente tentar convencer o cara a me prender, ou prender a Lia - já que um certo sossego viria bem a calhar na minha vida. E a Lia rindo.
O cara olha bem pra mim, acha que eu ia fazer muito estardalhaço na cadeia e explica;
- Você pode pagar a multa por excesso de velocidade no tribunal indigena ( já que aqui é terra de indio) , ou pode pagar na comum e perder pontos na sua carteria e ter records na justiça do transito.
Deixa eu pensar...
Acho que eu quero perder os pontos, pagar a multa e ferrar meu nome...ah, não, não! Hoje eu vou com a opçao de só pagar a multa, muito obrigada.

E assim eu fui embora. Com o vidro quebrado e o coração partido. Juro que essa foi a primeira vez eu dei uma corridinha!

+++++++

Today I had the opportunity to sleep in . The franchise representative offered to go to the kitchen by himself , Fabio offered to take Lia to her appointments. 7:30 My eyes opened and I could not convince them to close again. So much for the opportunity to sleep in...
Every day is a battle for me to wake up. Today was a battle trying NOT to wake up !

So I got out of bed and spent the morning going about my chores. All under control, until I picked up Lia to come and spend the afternoon with me.

The first thing that happened was a rock hitting my windshield. Yes , it broke . No, no one got hurt .
It's only money - it should not matter if we had any available . As luck has it, it is not the case .

Then Lia started her holliday campaign.
I want to go to Brazil . I want to go to Canada . I want to go to Alaska . I want to go on a "road trip " . I want to ....
I was so exhasusted, I missed my exit at the freeway .It is only time. Who cares?

Her campaign only got harder:
But why can not I go? Why do you have to go along ? why ....

And I see the siren of a police car behind me. FIU FIU FIU FIIIIU

I pulled over and the car stopped right behind me .I was not dreaming. He was after me.

- Hello Mr. cop! Got myself in trouble , right?
In police terms he replied:
- You were driving like a fuckwit . Did you know the limit here is 50 miles per hour ?
I tried to explain I never speed, I was been driven crazy by my teenager on a rant, I... . He could not care less.
-  Driver's license , car registration and insurance documents .
I opened my bag and. I look , I look , I look ...
I could not find the driver's license . Or the rego. Or the insurance.
But I know that everything is paid for, all in order. I just could not prove it!
- I tried to explain to the cop I had all the payments made, everything was in order.
- You may be into big trouble here... 
Lia roared with laughter . She could not help herself!
You were speeding . You had to have your driver's license on you . You had to have proof of car registration and car insurance too. You have none of it.
By then I was resigned to go to jail ( which seemed like a good plan - my only chance to rest now a days)
- You can pay the fine for speeding in the indigenous court ( since here is Indian land ) , or you can pay in common court,  lose points on your license and get a Traffic Offense record.
Let me think ...
I think I want to lose points , pay the fine and fuck my name ... ah, no, no ! Today I 'm going with the option to just pay the fine , thank you .

And so I left. With a broken glass and a shattered heart. I swear that this was the first time I sped! Really !

Vamos ao desfecho de alguns "causos" recentes. Se voce chegou agora, mil perdoes ( mas vou colocar o link dos posts referentes aos devidos "babados".
Let's see how some of the 2011 stories ended. If this is the first time you visit me, I am sorry ( but I will put a link to the original post, so if you are interested, you can find out what the hell I am talking about)...
1 - O telefone roubado
Como a minha generosidade e infinita, eu dei mais de 20 dias para o maloqueiro rapaz pagar o telefone que ele roubou da minha filha. O prazo terminou hoje. Voce pagou? Nem ele. Voce atendeu o telefone? Nem ele. Voce respondeu ao torpedo lembrando que hoje e o dia de pagar a divida? Nem ele.
Amanha vamos a delegacia prestar queixa.
1 - The stolen phone
Because I am stupid generous, I gave the thief guy who stole my daughter's phone more than 20 days tp pay it up. The deadline was today. Did you pay? Neither did he. Did you answer the phone? Neither did he. Did you reply to the text reminding him to pay? Neither did he.
Tomorrow off I go to the Police station. The joys of motherhood...


2 - A empregada do vizinho
O vizinho chegou de viagem e por coincidencia, eu o encontrei no portao de casa. Pensei, pensei, e resolvi contar o babado para ele. Me coloquei no lugar do individuo e cheguei a conclusao de que eu gostaria de saber das aprontacoes da empregada na minha ausencia.
O cara, simpaticissimo, ficou super grato e "devolveu" a empregada para a agencia.
2 - The neigbor's maid
After long and serious consideration, I decided to tell my neigbor what his maid has been up to while he was away. He was very polite, listened to my story and took the maid back to the agency... I still think I did the right thing, because I don't believe the woman was in her right state of mind.


3 - O correio
Esse babado nao esta nem perto do fim. A minha prima prometeu ir ao correio Londrino e pegar uma carta dizendo que o pacote nao foi entregue no endereco correto. So Deus sabe se eles vao fazer a carta ou nao - e se fizerem, so Alah sabe se isso vai ajudar a alguma coisa aqui em Bahrain. Mas vamos tentar, por que a esperanca e a ultima que morre...
3 - Post Office saga
This is far from finished. I have asked my cousin to get a letter from the UK Post office explaining the parcel never made to it's destination. Only God knows if she will manage to get one, and even if she does, only Alah knows if it will work here in Bahrain. But we will try, because one should never lose hope!


4 - O cabelo
A filha mais velha nao ficou muito satisfeita com o cabelo cor de cebola ( com o qual eu ja ate me acostumei), e jura que vai tentar mais uma vez, dessa vez com uma tinta MAIS loira...
4 - The hair
My older child is not happy with her new onion hair color. She insists she will dye it again, but this time with a blonder tone... Oh God!

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