Everything I type in today’s post can be filed under the heading “Shit Happens”. It does you know. Shit really does happen. All the time. To good people and to not so good people. To people who, you might say, deserve a karmatic (this is a real word) explosion of diarrhetic (alright this may not be a real word) deuce and it also happens to people who are as heroic as Ghandi or as pious as the Pope. But today I feel like I was handed a bucket load of bok and I am hovering pretty close to the edge right now.
Let me set the scene. Candles? Romantic music? No people, this scene requires more dark clouds and depressing music. Possibly elevator muzak playing Depeche Mode. Is it muzak or music?
I was on the dolmuş yesterday when a tiny Turkish man with a rather hairy moustache sat down beside me … and sneezed. All over me. I felt his germ-filled gust of Turkish breath whoosh over me and I could feel his festering microbes invade my throat, my eyes and my nose. Ick! I wiped my face as he apologised but it was too late. The damage was done and within 8 hours I was coughing and sneezing. I was a Codral tablet away from death. Bastard! So now I have the dreaded grip. Again.
Now you can imagine my state of mind when I woke this morning after a night of snot and phlegm. Adding to the joy of the grip I awoke to the bonus of no electricity. “Shit happens” I hear you cry. Yes, too true but I won’t be beaten by the lack of electricity. This is just a blip on my day. Soldier on.
I made myself a cup of tea and opened the refrigerator to grab the milk. No milk. “Shit happens” the Gods from above declare. Maybe, but maybe Daughter could have left me a mere drip for my tea this morning. I made a mental note to pull out my voodoo doll with her name on it and I left the house to go to the market.
Of course it is pouring with rain and I cannot find my umbrella so I ran through the rain dodging the puddles only to find that … the market wasn’t open yet. Yep, “Shit happens”.
My next “Shit happens” moment needs a little background – The Turk has arranged to build yet another apartment above ours (because you can never have too many apartments) however as one of our lovely neighbours complained about the building work the belediye (Council) recently handed us a stop work order. We now have a partially built apartment above us but this isn’t the “Shit happens” moment, not for me anyway. My “Shit happens” moment is the fact that because the building work has been cut short by this jealous, asshole neighbour today’s downpour is allowing a stream of water to pour into every room in the house through the partially built walls and holes in our ceiling. As I run around placing buckets and pots to collect the rainwater I can be heard yelling, “Shit happens!”
So here I am, suffering from the grip with no electricity, no hope of a cup of tea and water pouring through the roof. It’s not even 9am. At that point I contemplated purchasing a hallucinogen, maybe I could find a Turkish equivalent to LSD or some mushrooms, to take me away from myself. I could float off to my very own magical Willy Wonka-esque world filled with unicorns and fairy floss. No, I cry, soldier on … plus the electricity came back on. Bonus!
And can I just amend the above statement, thankfully the electricity came back on as Daughter came rushing down the hallway yelling that she needed to straighten her hair before school. Oh the horror, the trauma, of leaving the house with frizzy hair! It shall not be!
I finally got my cup of tea (with milk) when my father in law arrived at the door. He arrives on my doorstep every – single – day. Without fail. From breakfast to dinner he is here. Except Sundays. On Sundays he can be found at my sister in law’s (SIL) home, after all her food is better than mine and she puts up with his crap. Plus she bathes him. I would rather eat my own toenails than bathe him. Anyway my father in law arrives complaining. Yagmur! Really? It’s raining? I look out the window in feigned wonder. Oh?! It is raining? Thank you for stating the obvious. He then proceeds to tell me it is cold and that he needs a blanket. And a cup of cay. Drop everything folks. Get Dede a blanket! Get Dede cay! Go on, say it – “You wanted this life. Shit happens!”
Finally it is noon and Daughter leaves for school, with perfectly straight hair, but still complaining and my father in law is quietly snoring on the couch. Finally. Peace.
I grab the television remote and started flicking through the channels. The telephone rings. Oh no. Please. God no. I looked at the ID on the telephone. SIL’s work. I contemplated not answering it. I knew what would happen if I did. I sighed as I reached for the telephone. It seems that the Cabbage Patch Kid is crying – again – and her older sister has had enough of her whining. Oh wonderful, so now I get to enjoy the whining! “Shit happens”.
I am now sitting at my desk with my earphones on. They are blasting Beyonce (don’t judge me) to drown out the crap going down behind me. The Cabbage Patch Kid has thrown herself on the floor and is sulking – loudly. Her sister Tatli is ignoring her and yelling down the telephone at her mother. My father in law is asleep on my couch with Planet Turk blasting away and the bucket in the middle of the salon catching the dripping water is nearly full.
Yep. It really is true – shit happens!
Addendum – I actually wrote this yesterday but after I finished tapping out the last exclamation point my SIL arrived on my doorstep. She too had had a terrible day and she sat at my kitchen bench and cried. She is tired. Tired of working hard for little thanks, tired of her family (which probably includes me), of her children (which I for one totally understand) and definitely tired of her shitty life. As I handed her a glass of cay I realised just how lucky I am.
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