This isn't pretty. This isn't well written. This is just a rant.
Either bear with me--or skip it.
Yesterday was a Belgian holiday which meant everything was closed. Of course, almost everything was closed on Monday as well. Did I mention that most stores aren't permitted to open on Sundays? That convenience stores don't exist here? That all we have are inconvenient stores and services? And have I mentioned that the kids and I are bored, a bit desperate, and getting on each other's nerves after two solid months of 24/7 togetherness?
Back to yesterday--because of the holiday, the buses were running on a different schedule from the one I had a copy of, which means when I showed up to take the bus to the U.S. Army PO and library (the only thing open), I learned the bus wouldn’t be arriving for another 30 minutes.
Because of the delay, I now had less than an hour to buy my kids lunch, get books from the library, pick up milk, buy a birthday present, and get it wrapped and into the mail. We needed to be home by 2 p.m. because my son was going to have a playdate.
Despite the time crunch, I ALMOST got everything done. The sticking point occurred when I realized I didn’t have a freakin pen to address my package with. Finally found a pen and then realized I’d lost the piece of paper with my friend’s address on it in the process of tracking the pen down. Forget the stupid package--I have to catch the bus.
Because it was a holiday and there wasn’t a CAR on the road, the bus didn’t encounter ANY traffic, and so it arrived at the stop more than 5 minutes EARLY. And I missed it. And the kids and I had to wait AN HOUR to get a bus home. One hour sitting on the side of a busy road listening to my son complain about missing the play date with the kid who has been gone ALL SUMMER. I feel his pain. But I'm not in the mood to listen to his complaints. I have my own.
Fast forward to today: My back is killing me and I’m heading to the chiropractor’s in Brussels. I still need to mail my package to the U.S. and decide I’ll take it to the Embassy post office.
I’m one block away from the house when I realize I only have euros in my pocket. To mail the package using military mail, I need U.S. dollars. I make a mad dash back to the house running and carrying the package and a book in my arms. Then I run to the bus stop, convinced I’m going to miss the freakin bus again. No, I don’t miss it. It’s LATE this time. I’m extremely hot and sweaty now, and all the running has affected a monthly female process (ahem) so let’s just say that sweat is the least of my problems.
When we get off the Metro in Brussels, the temp has dropped dramatically and it’s POURING. We have umbrellas but we have about three-quarters of a mile to walk. There's standing water on the sidewalks and mini-rivers coursing down the streets. My jeans get all wet, my suede shoes are soaked, and my purse is dripping. Now I’m cold. I’m also really pissed.
I have to wait a while at the chiropractor's and when I get out I realize I don’t have time to go the Embassy PO now because I’m supposed to call E (who is in the U.S.) at exactly 11:30 a.m. In order to make all my transit connections and get home on time, I have to rush to the Metro NOW. God I'm tired of hauling this package around!
Thankfully, I make all the connections. We get home right at 11:30 a.m. I immediately pick up the phone card and phone to call E. I dial the number.
I punch in my ID # and hear a recording that the card has expired. The freakin card has EXPIRED. When did it expire? It had FIVE hours left on it!
Guess where I can buy another one? Yeah, the Embassy in Brussels.
Cover your ears, I’m going to scream and whine and stamp my feet now and rant like a two-year-old.
I just want to go HOME, have my own car, drive everywhere, never take a bus again, never have to walk miles in the rain hauling groceries, and never, ever have to deal with a culture where EVERYTHING shuts down in August, stores close for all three days of a three day weekend, and running out of milk or bread can be a crisis.
American Airlines take me away!