Gotta Be a Full Moon

There has to be some massive eclipse going on. I'm not sure I can do justice to the strangeness of this week, and it's only Tuesday.

The world's smallest Ipod is gone, and I am pisssssssssssed. I mean, it was the greatest thing in the world for working out, smaller than a matchbox and clipped to your clothes. Bright green. The problem was that it was smaller than a matchbox, and I kept losing it in my work bag or in a pocket. Well, now it is lost for almost sure, and I simply don't do justice to the bass licks in "Icky Thump" solo in my car. I'm going to replace it, but not sure if I want something larger and not as easily lost (and more expensive) that bounces around while I'm running, or go for the same thing again.

Saturday afternoon was gorgeous...took myself to a coffee shop with Orwell's 1984, played phone tag with J. for a couple of hours while she lent a listening ear to three or four different friends around Kuwait and then landed at my table, with 45 minutes to spare. I was five minutes in to a great conversation when I noticed a fellow lurking (ok, he wasn't lurking- he was standing directly behind J. and refusing to go away no matter how pointedly I talked to her). He wasn't completely unknown to me- he was actually a "Freind" of the 3rd leg who'd been victimized by some of her drunk-dials in October, before The Artist Formerly Known as SMOP.

Of course, after about 10 minutes this was sort of awkward, so we invited him to sit down after a couple of greetings and he point blank asked if I remembered his name. I was actually really sore to lose my conversation with J.; J. took it as a "Gee She Might Get Laid" opportunity, sucked down her cappuccino and fled. I offered (strongly, for me) to take her to her language lesson; she assured me of the 6545861032 taxis on Mubarak Street, one might work out.

We had about an hour's conversation before I had to leave, many cigarettes were smoked. He positively assured me that he loved chess. He wanted to play chess. We would meet again on Monday, to play chess.

I went to my riding lesson, which went very well. Then I went to a friends house to watch a movie, getting so lost enroute and returning I ended up in the Cargo area of the airport. I got home at midnight, had to be up by 5.

The following day at work was easy but tiresome, except my Assistant was slammed in the head by a kamikaze basketball during my Prep. She came tottering into the classroom at 1:00 behind the students, green as algae under her hijab and "I am not feeling well!" in an Islamabad accent. Honestly, I haven't seen anyone physically turn green in almost 16 years. I told her to go home, or at least sit down. She refused the nurse, lasted another 20 minutes and poured herself into a taxi, green and all.

French, then dinner with J. and a newcomer to Kuwait I had met very slightly during February. He turned out to be wildly intellectual, invited a second friend working at the Turkish Embassy, a second friend of J.'s showed up and we were out talking and eating until 11:30. Meanwhile, my Assistant's husband called from the Emergency Room to report a minor concussion, that she wouldn't be in. I told him I'd pretty much assumed that.

I drove home with book titles and research papers fluttering through my hair. We had talked about David Lynch (the first time I heard him mentioned in Kuwait), research in Kuwait on Autism, Diabetes and Mental Health, Khazars, books, Samarkand, Uzbekistan. It was exactly the delicious type of conversation I'd been craving, looking everywhere for, and despaired of finding. When I checked my email before bed, a different woman, a cytologist, had sent all her published papers as promised. Oh, language I could understand! People who understood it as a matter of course!

Bed by midnight, up at 5.

Even though the next day was...not exactly smooth, student-wise, I kept looking out at The Holiday Inn and just smiling. The Aramex representative finally got back to me, the office was sneezing distance so I could finally complete my paperwork. Plus, I was supposed to play chess that evening.

(OK, for those of you a little more knowledgeable in human motivation than I am, sometimes, shut up now. Just...shut it.)

I wanted a nap after work, but I wanted Lunch more. So I cooked lunch. Which took until 4:30, and I needed to leave by 6. Originally, I put on jeans and a Grey t-shirt with a flannel shirt over it (hey, it's a chess game, right?) but this tinny ringing in my head, eerily reminiscent of my grandmother having a major shitfit, made me pull a couple unused clothing items out of the drawer and put on a darker shade of lipstick. Surveyed the result, "Not too bad, not overdone" I mused. I walked out the door, pressed the elevator button, waited. The elevator opened to disclose my Supervisor, clearly in shock. I stepped in.
"OH MY GOD YOU HAVE A DATE!"
The doors slid shut. The elevator moved upwards. I started punching buttons frantically. "This is supposed to be going DOWN!"
"OH MY GOD THOSE ARE DATE CLOTHES you DOG!"
"It's not a date" I muttered, still pushing buttons "Something is wrong with the elevator!"
"WHO ARE YOU SEEING OH MY GOD YOU HAVE A DATE!"
"I'm playing chess look your floor right here okay bye!"
"I"M NOT LEAVING TILL YOU TELL ME WHO HE IS! WHERE IS HE FROM?"
"He's from Jordan and it's not a date okay BYE! The DOORS ARE CLOSING!" I leaned on the button, sank back against the elevator thinking I might just cut to the chase and have sex in the elevator, since it would only be the people in the elevator who knew what I was doing instead of the whole damn building and I could have an entire relationship wrapped up in less than 15 minutes.

I made it to Aramex, went downstairs and ordered a cappuccino. It was 7, no sign of the guy. And curiously enough, my phone wasn't with me. WTF??! This might sound funny but it's perfectly true- I absolutely wouldn't have left my phone on purpose, and I specifically remembered putting it in my purse. Where the hell was it? Where was he? At 7:30 I packed it in and went home.

Yeah, phone was sitting next to the computer all right... had he called? No. But someone else had. Three times. Third Leg had called (!!!!!) and SMOP had texted (!!!!!!!!!!!). Whoa. Two people I'd rather slam my hand in a car door than be forced to talk to, and with some dim level of understanding on their part.

I took a shower, got in pajamas, got in bed with a movie. He called at 9, and apparently it was my responsibility to have called him and reminded him...?

To the very last second, I thought he would show up with a chess board. Damn it. What followed was a very long couple of hours of him insisting I "can make him happy" with my equally insistent, "I don't believe that's in my power." Many cigarettes were smoke. I threw him out at 11:30, left the window open to air the place out.

Bed by midnight, up at 5.

Of course, in the morning there was a dust storm in full swing.