“This” – the frustration of it all
I dislike this. By ‘this’ I don’t mean my blog, I don’t mean my friends, I don’t mean my job, I don’t mean my car, I don’t mean my family. I mean this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it…. this uncontrollable sense of despondency – this overwhelmining sense of nothingness; where I am ‘happy’ but so fucking unhappy all at the same time. Where I can laugh and cry at the bitter irony of it all. How I want to be her but long to be anywhere but here.
I hate it all. Hate that I am unable (or unwilling?) to just do what it is my mum, my family want me to do. How I am ungrateful for all the raising, all the agony my mum had to go through just to get me here. How the more and more and more I do, the less and less it seems that I am actually doing (because there’s always more – always one more thing that “auntie’s daughter” does that I don’t do). I am saddened – disappointed by the fact that I have come to accept who I am and actually appreciate myself only to discover that everyone else is trying to fit me into this other mould where I either don’t fit, won’t fir – want to fit but can’t.
Running – running both away from and towards the very thing that I don’t understand. Its all just nothing really. How I don’t know where I am; how I know where I want to be but have no sense of how to get there. How I know that being me is sadly not enough. Its not enough…. Its’ never been enough
I just don’t understand… I don’t care anymore.
I want to understand – and I do care…. But there is a empty numbness here now… there is nothing left to care with.
Testing a theory…
Maybe I am a glutton for punishment or maybe I am just one of those people who have this need to poke something/someone because I can and because I am trying to gauge a reaction.
Like a hunter who pokes a hibernating hungry bear knowing full well that nothing good can come of this I have started to implement a devious, cunning plan that I find rather funny in some sick, sadistic and strange way.
In the spirit of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days: As you know, Mr M was once very consistent in his acknowledgment of being pretty interested. Back in the day I was getting 3 messages a day, on msn every other night, calls, calls and more calls – I was calling just as much (at one point my mobile bill got horrendously high… I’m talking $800-ish figures!), and there was a barrage of MMS’s sent to and fro. He was my habibi and I was his hayati (yeah, I know its totally lame but really that was just the tip of the camel’s hump). I went off to see family and the guy flew over to see me and spend time with me. Everything seemed grand – my mum was dizzy with happiness (she could not have dreamed of a better match – really, she was “diplomatically” delirious)!
And so imagine my mum’s disappointment when things began to go downhill; when the calls became less constant the longer dua’s (prayers) commenced. When periods went without calls my mum suggested me fasting with firm intention that I if “this” (meaning me and Mr M) was good for me, my faith and my happiness for it to be easy and not take too long. All this and I wasn’t telling everything – imagine if I had actually told her how much we used to talk???
Anywaaayyyzz so I have responding aloof with aloof. Empty with empty and every so often the man knocks me off my chair with a call. I will admit that he does message me (every bloody once in awhile) but that’s about it. In a fit of fever + antihistamine-induced coma I called him once and berated him (read: went off my tree at him). He then told me that the reason he wasn’t calling/messaging/emailing etc was because he was mimicking my “lack of contact” behaviour!! So I am now doing the complete opposite.
In an attempt to get a reaction – any reaction; because at this point I just don’t give a toss anymore (and the only reason I am still being nice is because of the distant family thing) I am going overboard. My messages this week have included; ‘habibi, I hope you have had a lovely day at work and that everything is going so well for you. You are in my thoughts’ and ‘honey, inshallah you are not too stressed. I am so looking forward to the weekend. Hope the weathers not too hot there; its really cold here L’. The poor guy must have no clue what’s going on… I am getting responses – straight to the point and actually seemingly interested, telling me that he’s still really busy ‘babe’ and that he has an assignment due. It’s all too weird really!
Something’s Gotta Give
Last night I watched the series premiere of Lipstick Jungle; by the end of it, it really got me to thinking about the successful ability (for someone) to “juggle” both your business/work life and that of your marriage.
My uncle is one of the people who had hugely impacted my life; growing up he was my father figure and has shaped my notions and ideologies of the importance of education. He was so much fun to be around and really knew how to relax (probably because his job was so stressful). He exuded this sense of power; people who knew him loved him and respected him. Everyday he would go for a long run (and on the occasions he’d invite me I’d seriously be more than worn out), the man was in his early to mid 50’s and had abs for god’s sake! Mum once showed me photos of him when he was in his younger detective days – even in pics he had this… charismatic charm. He was smart and successful – when I was growing up he’d take me to court with him (he was a magistrate at the criminal courts) and then we’d spend the rest of the day together. It amazed me to see how people interacted with him, how they spoke to him. I remember looking at him in awe, thinking that when I grew up I wanted to marry someone who was just like him (please lets not analyse my complexes at this stage).
Yes, I will admit that I have placed him high on a pedestal. Anyway I am getting to a point – for all his money, his intelligence, the respect he had earned and all his politeness he had a flaw that I remember so poignantly; he had no relationship with his wife. I’m not talking about that they rarely saw one another or that they didn’t “get” one another. I am talking about a complete void where his wife is concerned. They had no idea about one another; and without getting into too much detail it was obvious to all members in the house that there was nothing there; no hatred, no animosity, just ‘nothing’ – yes there was an sense of respect; an acknowledgement, but that was about it.
So after watching last nights episode of Lipstick Jungle; watching the Sex and The City Movie and previously Cashmere Mafia I can’t help but notice a trend that is not limited to television. My mum has a theory – that very few people can be successful at both aspects of their life. Almost every week I hear my mum say that she wishes she had not got me enthused about long-time study; that if she hadn’t I’d probably already be married and given her grandchildren.
It makes me wonder; just how much truth is there in the theory that more work pressures = less ‘successful’ married life?
Brooke Shield’s character (Wendy) in Lipstick Jungle is desperately trying to keep her marriage from flailing– and look how long Carrie Bradshaw had to wait before marrying Mr Big! Looking closer to home I have an Egyptian Friend who is a successful bio-chemist doing studies alongside major scientists in the US and Canada; do you think men are banging her door down with proposals??? HHHEEEELLL NNNOOOOOO!!! And if we think of people we know that are already married and highly successful in their workforce are their marriages/relationships just as successful… is it their frist relationship? or has that fizzled and now they’ve finally found something someone else who loves them for them?
Sadly I guess something has gotta give!
Being Arab
I know that a lot of people may find this totally stereotyping but I read this and thought ‘oh my god – this is scary!’
Anyway; I couldn’t resist to post it – have a look and tell me if you disagree.
You know you’re Arab when…
ØYou have to remind your Australian friends to take off their shoes when they enter your house
ØIf you’re a man you wear more cologne than deodorant
ØYou put olive oil in & on everything and brag to everyone about how healthy it is
ØIf you’re male you are named after your grandfather or great-grandfather
ØYou roll your eyes in annoyance when people call Arabic bread “Pita bread”
ØIf you’re an Arab woman you dye your hair an obviously fake shade of blonde & swear its natural (I never really got into this personally…)
ØYou love Um Kalthoom & if you don’t one of your parents makes you listen to her, trying to translate the words in English so you can appreciate her as much as they do
ØYou have at least 30 cousins (yeah, & this is just first cousins J)
ØYour relatives alone could populate a small city (this is for my second cousins)
ØYou hug & kiss relatives you have never seen before in your life
ØYou know what the debki, a hafli, & a derrbakki is/are
ØYour parents say “bolice” for “police”
ØYou cook a meal that lasts 3 days (oh my god; this is so my mum)
ØAt weddings it takes the bride & groom 4 hours to kiss all the guests
ØYou have a gold necklace of your name written in Arabic (Susi, stop laughing… yes, I am guilty of this…)
ØYour middle name is your father’s first name
Ø You can’t have a meal without bread
ØYou never run out of bizzer (seeds) (& have an never ending supply of dates)
ØYou teach your non-Arab friends Arabic word (mostly bad ones) and get happy when they use them in normal conversations
ØYour Mom has a creative nickname for you like “Natoosheh,” or “Tuntooneh.” ( I am not telling you what mine is…)
ØIf you’re male you come up with a westernized version of your “difficult” Arabic name like “Sam” or “Mike.”
ØYou get really happy and call the whole family to the room when there is a special or documentary on Arabs or anything Arabic related on TV
ØYou pump loud Arabic music from your car
ØYou eat hummus at least 3 times a week
ØYour favorite food is wara’ dawali, but you are embarrassed to tell your friends that you ate leaves for dinner (it’s grape leaves)
ØYou make coffee before leaving home to work, at the office, before lunch, after lunch, when having guests, before the guest leave, after the guests leave and before you go to bed (oh my god – this is so my uncle and aunties!)
ØYou still have stored suitcases of clothes that you used to wear when you were five (sad but true!)
ØEveryone is a family friend (or somehow a cousin!)
ØIf you are 25 and unmarried, your parents make you feel that you are getting old.
ØYou ask your parents a simple question, and they answer by telling the story of how he used to walk miles just to get to school
ØYour parents drink 6 cups of tea a day
ØYou curse at your teachers or strangers in Arabic.
ØYou can spot an Arab a mile away and they have spotted at you because they keep staring (oh my god – this is so, so true!)
ØYour mother yells at the top of her lungs to call you to dinner even if you’re in the next room.
ØYou have 4 cousins, an uncle, a brother-in-law and 7 friends named Mohammed (and in my case 5 Abdullah’s and 8 Ali’s… that I know of!)
ØYou arrive one or two hours late to a party and think it’s normal. …all Arabs are late- all the time
ØYou talk for an hour at the front door when leaving someone’s house
ØYou say bye 17 times on the phone
ØWhen your parents meet strangers and talk for a few minutes, you discover they know one of your relatives back home
ØYour parents don’t realize (or believe?) that phone connections have improved in the last two decades & still scream at the top of their lungs when making long distance calls (oh my god – my mum does this! Even on mobile phones she thinks she needs to yell to be heard!)
ØYou go through arrivals at the airport & see at least 20 “family members” who have come to pick you up
For all the “idiosyncrasies” involved I wouldn’t change a thing!
Mum & Ron Bakir
Sunday night had me and my mum watching the Schapelle Corby story/documentary on channel 9 (final instalment is tonight and I am looking forward to it). anyway; I’m not going to get into the whether or not I think she’s guilty theories as that’s not what this is about. This is about Ron Bakir – for anyone who wants some quick info;
Ron Bakir (Arabic: رون باكر) (also known as Rani Muhuddine Hassan) is a Lebanese-Australian entrepreneur and from Queensland, Australia. Bakir is the founder of Mad Ron’s, a mobile phone retail chain. He gained nationwide media attention as a supporter of Schapelle Corby in 2005.
So we’re watching this doco (mum and I) – here I am watching intently about the issue at hand; namely Shapelle’s constant exclamation of “innocence” and how hard everything is and how she can’t believe she’s in this predicament (still). My mum then comes out with;
“Why don’t you find out if Ron is married?”
Me: huh?
(Thinking – ‘oh my god; where did this come from?’ his been in our media since 2005 and now you’re looking at him as a possible marriage prospect?)
Mum: look, he’s Arab; he’s Muslim –
Me: I don’t think he’s practicing mum, he changed his first name to Ron what does that say?
Mum: it doesn’t matter; inshallah he will see us praying and he will start. You want someone educated – khalas, go find him and marry him. He is not ugly – he has good heart if he wanted to help this girl Schapelle. What you don’t like in him? Yallah tell me?
Me: (desperately trying to find some really obvious flaw in him while watching him on tv) look mum; he has thinning hair!
(yes, I was clutching at straws – it was the first thing that came to mind; I didn’t want to say that I actually found him a bit ok to look at… I wasn’t going to add fuel to this already mounting fire)
And then my mum throws out her final comment before leaving to make a cup of tea:
“ya, well – you’re nearly 30… still not yet married… no one perfect”
Dumbfounded…. Where do I go with this? I tried explaining to mum that I am pretty certain like all the other Lebanese-Australian guys he probably has some whitey girlfriend who his parents probably don’t like. I tried explaining that since he had all this money and was well known that his girlfriend would probably be some leggy bleach blonde model. I tried to tell her that I am a little way off being 30 and that I didn’t appreciate that comment.
I don’t think she heard any of it though – the reason why I think this is because in the scene where Ron is on his mobile phone my mum said; “look, no wedding ring – go see if you know someone who knows him to introduce you to him…”
I give up – what more can I say?
The Arab Male
I really don’t understand most men – I know it’s the whole “men are from Mars and women are from Venus” thing but sometimes I sit there totally baffled shaking my head thinking “what the??”
For the last few days Mr M has been asking me to call him (why he couldn’t call me at his convenience was beyond me); telling me that there is a very important thing that we need to talk about. Now; from my experience nothing, nothing good comes from this statement ‘we need to talk’. You don’t get a call from the lotteries commission saying ‘hello this is Stan the man from the lotteries commission we need to talk… you’ve won $3.2 million’ or ‘habibi; We need to talk – will you marry me?’ did you notice that I’ve popped the notion of an Arabic proposal as close to the notion of winning lotto? Anyway; I spoke to him on Friday – after he decided to take it upon himself to call me (only after 3 days of badgering for me to call him – I swear I haven’t had this many messages from him since he was first interested). Apparently it was something family-related and confirming that I didn’t have any info or was hiding things about my cousin’s wife that i had gotten quite close to last time I was over there.
Without getting into the details I was appalled with him thinking that I would go against the family (yeah, I’m sounding like a bad episode of The Godfather – but you should have heard him). I mean seriously – I would have thought that he would know me better than that… I couldn’t belive it; I had to say something – (something along the lines of: )
“I cannot believe that you think I’d do something like that? I would’ve thought that you’d know me a little better – I am seriously annoyed with you now. I understand that you’re tired from work and study but really you’re not the only one who has work pressures + study + family pressures. I’m sorry that you’re 26 and that this is your very first job in your entire life. Really, it must have been hard for you always having everything you needed…”
And because I was seeing red I went onto his most recent behaviour in relation to me:
“if anyone has a right to be questioning and ‘tired’ here it’s me; you run hot then cold, then hot, then cold, cold, cold with me and a few little intermittent lukewarm bursts. Seriously man, figure it out – we’re family – I really expected far, far more from you.”
After letting off steam to him he actually quietened down a bit and we started chatting about other stuff (in order to calm both of us down I guess). Anyway, I got off the phone with him not long after that.
Imagine my surprise when I get a message the next day from him:
“Hey babe, I’m really sorry that I upset you last night. I hope you have a really great night and I look forward to talking to you soon… M.”
Do you see? Men are strange – they speak a language and process things so, so differently… I’m actually still gob smacked that I got him to say sorry! Knock me over with a chickpea; I actually got an Arab man to say his sorry!
FYI: Let me just say that for anyone who doesn’t know – Arab men don’t very rarely apologise. Not because they can’t acknowledge when they do something wrong but because (to them) they don’t do anything wrong; I know I’m generalising/stereotyping, but this is what I have come to see and accept. I don’t mind it (in most cases) and have learnt to work around it from what I’ve seen my aunties do. I ascribe to the ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ school of thought (the mother – Maria Portokalos was saying this about her husband to her daughter): “Let me tell you something, Toula; The man is the head, but the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants”
Cake Anyone?
I hate the last few days before payday (I get paid fortnightly and there’s 3 more days to go); the anticipation to getting paid, the depression of just how much is going to be for bills (really, the amount is far, far too muchL) and the hope that they’ll be a ‘lil something left over so I can do a little bit of shopping (that’ll turn my frown upside down). I try not to think about the huge amounts we pay in taxes, the amounts I pay back to the tertiary department for my 6 yrs at uni – really; the slice of cake I am left with at the end is rather depressing….
My weekend was a little quiet – although I suppose it could be worse. I am trying to keep my spirits high in light of my recent moods (see last post) – I am choosing to blame the winter cold and being rugged up and yearning to snuggle (and as much as I love my mum it’s really not the same….) while I lay on my sofa munching through a whole large packet of Thai Chilli CC’s (yes, I am ashamed of my behaviour…. I had no idea that I had eaten the whole packet). It gets worse though, because after I took mum to the mosque I stopped off at McCafe in search of their gluten-free Jaffa Choc Cake – they didn’t have any that day. I should have walked out; left then and there and jumped into my car… but no, I instead got a slice of banana and walnut cake (I am a MAJOR sucker for cream cheese frosting). Did I mention that I also got a large fries to go? Ooohhh the same of it all… I will be good this week, I will good this week. I am off to dinner this Saturday and looking to wear my cute knee-length off white knit dress so I cannot afford to stumble on the healthy eating road the rest of this week.
Waiting…
I am feeling flat – totally flat. I am sitting here and have had my coffee and am now moving onto Red Bull; all at 10.30 in the morning. But that’s not really what this post is about.
Last night I lay in bed watching TV but not really watching, feeling totally and utterly lonesome; thinking is this is it? I think it’s because everything seems to be going great guns in my cousin’s life; how her relationship situation is all fantastic and how happy she is and exited she is and how she can’t wait to see me and can’t wait to tell me everything. Don’t take that the wrong way – I am ecstatic for her and am glad that things are going smoothly for her but it leads me to think about how barren things are in my neck of the woods.
When I was in high school I had this thought; this picture of where I would be when I was in my mid twenties; and here I am not quite there. Granted I’ve finished my degree, I’m working full time doing something I actually enjoy and have enough income to pay all my bills, help mum, buy a plasma, do the girlie thing and buy shoes, handbags, clothes (you get my drift) and have my own car. I know I sound totally ungrateful – and please understand that I really do thank Allah for everything that I do have but it just feels… empty.
And maybe that’s why I feel so flat – because these things like the degree, the income, the purchasing, the car, the level of help I am able to provide, the quality of friends that I have; all these factors are within my control; that I have a huge bearing on these facets.
A little while ago I sat down with a girl who was my best friend in high school; she is now married and has just had her 3rd child (a girl, a boy and now another boy); they’re both really, really lovely people (I know this because I got them togetherJ; other people getting together I can do – myself is a whole other situation!), the kind of young family that I sort of aspire to have. Anyway she is just finishing her Dip Ed (she’s still on maternity leave) and I asked her that if there was anything else in life that she felt she needed or wanted; was there anything, anything that she felt was lacking her life… she thought… and thought and as she was thinking I was playing with her little girl…
“No”
No…. there was nothing. And she said there was no sense of pride in her voice, no arrogance, no “haha I have everything I want and you have nothing” tone at all. Just contentment; I asked if she was sure. She said that she was; “I have a good husband, we both work doing something we enjoy, I have beautiful, healthy children, we live in a safe country with no war, I have good, caring friends and my family come to visit often; alhumdulillah I am happy”. I was so, so happy for her. That she felt that sense of contentment that I am searching for, yearning for… that there is a part of me that sits here and fears that maybe just maybe I’m not destined for that. And so I felt even emptier. Like all I had accomplished so far wasn’t really worth anything.
Every time it becomes blindly obvious how abysmal I am feeling my mum will tell me that I need to just be sabr; to be patient; that it’s all nasib (fate/destiny/in God’s hands). But it seems that I am constantly waiting; hoping, praying, being let down, getting disappointed, getting somewhere but ending up nowhere.
Like I’m standing at a bus stop (waiting for a bus obviously) and I know the exact precise destination I want to get to. Bus after bus arrives; people get on and people get off; but I’m still waiting for ‘Bus to Wedded Bliss-land’. I’m still standing, patiently waiting. I was told that it would be here by now. I’m all ready for this wonderful place that I know will not always be smooth sailing but I’m willing to make the sacrifices and compromises. And now it gets colder and the winds get stronger and I’m cold. I am standing there; cold and alone at the bus stop and as other people pass me I smile, pretending that I am fine; that is doesn’t matter that I’m still waiting – that I (apparently) know exactly what I’m doing here. And now its beginning to rain and I’ve left my umbrella at home, my hair is getting frizzy because the rain always makes it frizzy. As I’m ‘patiently’ standing there I’m praying for this bus to hurry up and get here. I can feel the tears prick my eyes as I’m desperately trying to hold them back because I can’t believe that I’m still here – still waiting. Buses are coming and going; some close to where I want and need to get to – I’m tempted to just settle and get on one of those; but I don’t because I’m ‘patient’, because its not what I ‘want’, because I’m told its not where I need to be. So here I am… standing in the cold, wet environment – seemingly totally ok – falling apart and getting numb on the inside…. waiting….
Still…
I can’t even think of a title…
I saw this article on www.ninemsn.com.au
Sibling ‘Found Dead, Emaciated Twins’
17:33 AEST Tue Jun 17 2008
By Christine Flatley
The mother of 18-month-old twin toddlers who lay dead in a bedroom for a week allegedly told police: “I don’t think I fed them enough.”
Their father had walked past the children’s room but said he didn’t know the boy and girl were dead, and hadn’t seen them since Christmas, a Brisbane court also heard on Tuesday.
The children’s deaths emerged after their 11-year-old sibling – alerted by an unusual smell – found their decomposed and emaciated bodies in the front room of the rented house in Brisbane’s Sunnybank Hills.
The child allegedly said to her mother: “I know why you have been crying now.”
Police found the toddlers’ bodies at the couple’s house around 7pm (AEST) Monday.
The 28-year-old man and his 30-year-old partner have been charged with failing to provide the necessities of life. But the charges could be upgraded to murder, Brisbane Magistrates Court was told.
The couple was remanded in custody until Thursday pending the results of post-mortem examinations.
Police prosecutor Sergeant Tina Green told the court that once the examination was completed, it was “most likely” the charges would be upgraded to manslaughter or murder.
An earlier court hearing was told that police found the bodies in a “state of decay” and the children appeared to be malnourished.
The mother told police she had noticed the twins were dead on either June 8 or 9, the court heard, but she did not report their deaths. She told police she had been suffering from a cold and rarely fed or changed the twins, it is alleged.
The court heard the children weighed the same as newborns and appeared to be suffering from malnutrition. One weighed 3.6kg and the other 4kg, and the mother allegedly told police: “I don’t think I fed them enough.”
The couple’s other four children said they rarely saw the twins, who had been kept in the front room for most of their lives, the court heard.
Defence lawyer Michael Cridland, appearing for the father, told a second of two court hearings on Tuesday that his client had only been informed of the children’s deaths on Monday.
His client was “further removed in his culpability” than the mother because he had not been responsible for supporting the children. Mr Cridland said the pair had been undergoing “significant relationship problems”, and his client had not seen the twins since Christmas, despite living in the same house.
The mother was the primary carer and the father took the older children to school before going to work each day, he said.
However, Sgt Green said the man had to walk past the twins’ bedroom to get to his own room, where he slept separately from his partner.
Both the accused refused to undergo a psychiatric assessment.They are expected to make applications for bail on Thursday. The mother’s four other children – three of whom were fathered by the accused man – are staying with their grandmother.
A spokesman for Queensland’s Department of Child Safety said the twins were not known to the department. He said the family was reported to the department before the twins were born, but no evidence requiring action was found.
“Where there is no evidence for the department to take action, it has no legal basis to intervene with a family and it would be totally inappropriate for the department to attempt to do so,” the spokesman said.
I am shocked, appalled… speechless… what is there left to say?
The water is cold – oh so cold
I got home last night after work feeling tired, run down and ready to sit in front of the telly and watch the season final of Desperate Housewives. My mum was stressed out when I got home – apparently our hot water wasn’t working! Its winter, it’s raining, it’s seriously cold and our hot water wasn’t working! Now, in my house there are a grand total of 2 people (me and my mum) – that’s it. When something breaks, falls apart, needs replacing somehow I am not only the daughter but the plumber/handywoman. Apparently the rationale is “I sent you to uni – I am sure you can fix it”. I had no idea that as well as Intro to Psych and Human Development I must’ve missed Plumbing 101.
So into the wet night I wandered to locate my hot water tank (I am sssoooooo yearning for a shower at this point) with torch in hand I lifted the lid – the pilot light was on – hmmm (what the ????). Just in case though I switched it off; waited the necessary 5 minutes (that what it said on the instructions people) and then re-lit it.
I went back inside hoping that everything had been fixed; I waited an hour for the water to get warm (by which point I am both cranky and upset all at the same time) and then when I got into the shower I flicked on the hot water – NOTHING CAME OUT! I still have no water coming out… oh no; that’s a lie – I have cold water coming out when I flick on the cold water tap. So last night I washed my hair with cold water… I think at some point I lost feeling in my fingers; then the parts under my nails actually started to hurt L
Mum got the next door neighbour’s husband to take a quick look and he said that he thinks our hot water system has died and that this happened to them about 18 months ago (and the people across the road about 6 mths ago). Apparently it’s going to cost us about $1,500 to replace (I am crying on the inside)
So this morning I woke up for morning prayers – mum had gotten up before me and put the kettle on so we would have warm water for taking wudu. I tried to tell myself that at some places I go in Indonesia there is no hot water and all I use then is cold water – but its not the same; its not 8 degrees (Celsius) at 7.30am and I’m not trying to get ready for work (yes, it would have been colder at 5.30am) L
Mum is calling people to get this fixed today – I am making dua that is fixable and that it is not going to cost us a small fortune… and that I will be able to have a hot shower this evening.
Otherwise – can I ‘borrow’ some of your water? Please?
