Beware, rant ahead.

This is going to be a pure, unadulterated, aimless little rant. I can promise you that!

I have been busy (what’s new you may ask), but to spice things up, I have been busy and sick. Yes, the most wonderful way to live- sickness and lack of rest. So, I’m coming on here today to vent and whine. Bear with me, will you.

First off, let’s begin with my biggest woe in life. Picking up.

Picking up? You may ask.

Yes.

Picking up people from places.

Picking up the groceries.

Picking up the dry cleaning/ laundry.

Picking up new shoes for the little one.

Picking up toys that are relentlessly thrown onto the floor.

Picking up the crumbs from the floor, that will magically appear again in a few minutes after you last picked them up.

Picking up used diapers, left on the floor/ sink/ tub/ bed/ countertop…. wherever it was last changed (depending on when and by whom).

Picking up bits of tissue.

Picking up the garbage.

Picking up dishes after dinner/ lunch/ tea.

Picking up the damned phone which usually rings at the most inopportune moments.

Picking up oneself post physical and mental ailments and setbacks.

The picking up doesn’t end. Ever. And I despise the act.


Now let us talk about my best friend, and accomplice in all my adventures here in Qatar. My Car.

Last week was an epic one, in terms of hours lost, calories spent explaining matters to people who refused to understand and number of trips made to different parts of the city (nay, country) to fix up a couple of dents and bruises that I inflicted on the poor thing a couple of weeks ago.

Police station A, Police station B, then back to A a couple more times.  Authorised Service Centre, insurance office, showroom, insurance office, random garage, back to Police Station A, then again random garage…. the story is ongoing.

The saga is yet to end, for my dear one is still at the “hospital” waiting to be fixed. And here I am, lonely, crippled and at the mercy of whimsical, fickle minded Uber drivers who cancel on me at peak hours. Poor Mr H, is now on double pick- up duty and is praying as fervently (maybe more!) as I am for the hasty return of my hunky- beast machine.

The Car holds a special place in my current life. It is more than just an automobile, to take me from point A to B. It is my thought chamber, my music box, my pensive. A place to destress, rewind and re-coup from the war wounds that are inflicted upon us by life. A place to hide from people and responsibilities. A place to grab a quick nap when the on call- rooms are full. A place to brush my hair and do my face up before walking in to a presentation. A place where I don’t have to pretend or be anything other than what I truly am. A place where I can listen to the same song on loop for days, without the fear of being judged as uncool. A place where I can keep the air- conditioning at exactly the temperature that I want to. No compromises. No disturbances. I can’t wait for it to be back.


On a more positive note, and especially of interest to the ladies who are reading this. I think I may have found The Foundation. The One. Just maybe. The 16 hour wear, no smudge, no budge, like- skin yet not skin foundation that does not look cakey or too made- up. Yes. I might have. Will tell you all about it soon. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves 🙂

And yes, I forgot to mention- my sickness was this little thing called pneumonia 🙂 🙂

Till next time.

J.

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