I lied.I told you my truth. Now I feel guilty and I need to tell you the truth about my lies.
I don’t like it here. Not all of it, anyway. I hate the dry air. My hair done at Okairi has lost its bounce. It is now as straight as I am not gay with it. Not only that it stands up in protest every time I make an attempt at brushing it with my anti-static Silva hairbrush, it is also flatter than my tummy.
My skin is rough – yes, from the dry air as well. It is so rough that it makes the sound you would only hear when a jackfruit rubs against the raffia sack that wraps it. Imagine my jackfruit-rough skin rubbing against silk stockings. Yes, jackfruit. Not durian. And that’s why my new stockings are now as linty as a towel. Durian would have ripped ’em.
I dislike the carpeted floor upstairs as well. The carpet sheds so badly that every time the kids roll on the floor I have a few extra items added to my job description. I have never seen a carpet that sheds this bad since that expensive but cheap Chinese silk carpet I bought at a clearance sale in Ruwi. Gosh, I might as well just turn the lint it sheds into a wig by my fourth week here (I vacuum-clean it twice to thrice a week).
The dryer machine. Ahhh the dryer machine is a blessing in digust disguise! Obviously it speeds up the second item in my job description i.e. Laundry. But the dearest drying machine shrinks almost all my clothes! So shrunk that it sends me to the weighing scale every morning thinking I have put on weight! With shrinking comes wrinkling and crinkling. With wrinkling and crinkling comes ironing. With ironing comes an irony – I hate ironing but despise it if it is not done MY way!
I did actually get help – especially with ironing – last week. In fact I did get help with mopping, vacuuming, cleaning and babysitting from a Filipino lady named Joy. She was supposed to come Tuesdays and Fridays. But the joy did not last. She came VERY late on her first day. She said she overslept. Okay no worries. She left halfway through cleaning on the second day (with a good excuse) but did not call as promised. Not a problem, I am not fussy about calling. She brought a friend over on her third day. Hmmm…I frowned a bit. And this week she has not come at all! All I have said is…”Oh what a joy!”
And today, on my 19th day of being in Moscow, I saw Autumn. The fourth season.
Now that I am four-seasoned here, shall I backpack and backtrack? Or shall I just write that great Russian novel?
Questa è Enida 
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