one of those days

July 17, 2007 at 12:02 pm Leave a comment

Yesterday was one of those days where a week’s worth of annoying little things that are manageable one at a time pile themselves into one day and become really bloody frustrating. Following is the story of my day and the Top 10 annoying things that happened.

Everything was more or less reasonable until after work, so this isn’t a work rant – I’ll admit that the company at lunch was less than ideal but I can live with it.

I got home early so that I would have time to walk to the pregnancy yoga class that I enrolled for. I set off with plenty of time, and so decided to go to the pharmacy to get my prescription for pills for a healthy me and healthy foetus. The detour only took about 1o minutes but when I got there the queue to have prescriptions filled was so long that I knew I’d be late if I stayed – that’s Number 1. So off I trudged into the sweltering day to continue the journey to the community centre building where the classes were being held.

On the way, some random kid asked if I was Nurit and that he’d been waiting for her for ages and she was his aunt and he hadn’t seen her for a long time and I looked like her. He actually started sounding like a stalker in the making when he told me that he had her phone number at home and he actually didn’t live so far away … I told him not to wander too far and left him there. He’s not MY nephew! I count that as Number 2 – strangers weirding me out always bugs me.

When I arrived at the community centre I was literally dripping with sweat – Number 3 – and whatever nerve that travels along the top of my left foot was killing me, I was starting to worry that I’d have to start walking barefoot – not a pretty proposition in a country as filthy as ours. That’s a huge Number 4.

There were a few other pregnant women waiting in the stairwell so I waited too, far enough away that I wouldn’t have to talk to them in my hot and dishevelled state. I’d brought a book to while away the time in case I got there early. I finished the book while I was waiting – Number 5 – and it had a really disappointing ending that I could have predicted, but I generally expect more from that particular author – which brings us to Number 6: the first disappointing Paul Auster book that I’ve read.

After waiting about 10 minutes, a guy from the centre came to tell us that the teacher had forgotten that the class was today; the classes would only start next week. This is only Number 7 but it should by rights take up places 8, 9, and 10 as well – because without 7, Numbers 2, 3, and 4 wouldn’t even have happened!

The walk home was largely uneventful – my feet survived, anyway. I went again to the pharmacy, where the counter was queue-free. I presented my health card, my prescription, and my cash, and waited for my pills. The pharmacist found the pills but couldn’t validate the prescription for some reason. He and two other pharmacists all tried to put the transaction through but none of them managed – some problem between the health provider’s system and the pharmacy’s system. I asked if it was possible to fill the prescription in a non-computerised fashion, but of course it wasn’t. Number 8: no pills,  and a twenty-minute waste of my time, standing there while they tried to sort out what was happening.


The walk home from the pharmacy is only about a few minutes but on the way I saw ahead of me the old dude who hangs out in our neighbourhood shouting in an emphysema-tinged voice some of the following gems:

  … !תמות! … מנוול!  …  רוצח! … תזדיים בתחת! … יה כלב! … אני ארצח אותך

All of which translate to something like:

Die! Bastard! Murderer! Dog! I’ll kill you! … and an unmentionable in English one, too.

Wishing to avoid an unpleasant scene (as they say), I crossed the road and hoped he wouldn’t lash out at me. Sometimes he yells randomly, but he seems to take encouragement from the presence of other people. I tried not to look at him but I guess I turned my head by about a degree – he yelled half-heartedly “תמותי” (die!) as I passed on the other side of the street. So, Number 9 … although I have to admit I did smile to myself – there was actually something comforting in having fairly unpleasant abuse hurled at me, and knowing without a doubt that it wasn’t personal.

Home is usually a haven from frustrations, and it certainly was last night. I did, however, manage to get a Number 10 when I found an olive stone in my olive paste (recipe posted about a week ago). I just hope the food processor blades will forgive me.

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Entry filed under: anger rants, frustrations and rants, pregnant life.

things I don’t want to hear prenancy fashion trauma

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