Odds and ends

Some reasonably interesting things have happened today.

It's the day after Eid, so the city has been a bit festive, and I've had off from work. Of course, I don't usually teach on Mondays anyway, but who am I to scoff at a holiday mentality? That said, I worked all weekend. I'm giving my first "invited" talk in the Biology department at AUC on Wednesday, and I still have to write up that pesky thesis of mine.

To my surprise, my home phone rang around noon. Now that KC's gone, the few phone calls I get are usually to my cell. I answered the phone, and for once it wasn't a wrong number. (Imagine how well I manage "I'm sorry, but that person doesn't live here, perhaps you have the wrong number?" in my KG Arabic.)

The caller was a friend of a friend. Maybe a week ago, I went over to this lady's apartment to meet a cat she wanted a home for. I'd been told that this was a sweet, affectionate Persian, who wanted to be an only cat.

Perfect, I thought.

So I arrived at the apartment and met Shahira, who was indeed a purebred Persian. I knew something was off, though, when my host gushed, "She's just the sweetest cat, she's got a beautiful tail, and she's only a tiny bit autistic."

Excuse me? Autism in a cat? (Take that, proponents of the vaccination theory of autism.)

I spent about half an hour listlessly waving a stuffed frog at the autistic cat. She loved the frog, but didn't even seem to realize that I was there. I was already planning how to break up with the cat - the cat that I hadn't even accepted yet.

The woman saw that our blind date wasn't going well, so she offered to introduce me to her other 5 cats. I met the other cats, three of whom were not available.

The other two were a mother and kitten. Long story short, the younger cat was sweet, affectionate, and looking for a home. But apparently I'm commitment-phobic with cats, so I told her I'd call. I didn't. So she called me. (Obviously there isn't a version of "The Rules" meant for cats.)

Would I be interested in having India come stay for a few days? Sure, why not - it'd be like a honeymoon package with a free annulment option afterward. 45 minutes later, India had moved in. She is very cute, and very sweet, and I haven't sneezed yet. She is a bit skittish, though, and entirely too much help in writing this blog. I don't think her "mommy" uses a laptop at home.

After getting my proto-dependent settled, I decided to finish this vacuum battle once and for all. Too many times I have had to bow to the impossibility of finding an open appliance store at a reasonable hour. Who goes out to buy vacuums at 10 pm? Apparently Egyptians do. At least during Ramadan. I finally hit upon a solution - the open round-the-clock grocery store in Zamalek.

Zamalek's a hip neighborhood on Gezira island, a 10 minute cab drive away. I've been going there to do any sort of involved grocery shopping, because they have actual "supermarkets" instead of just individually-run stores. The small stores are great for some things, and not for others. Plus, my favorite store in Cairo, Moroccan Kamooz, is right above one of the grocery stores. What else can a girl ask?

Most days the taxis here accelerate straight at me, flashing their lights and honking their horns. Today, though, probably due to the holiday, I wasn't quite so lucky. I finally managed to get a cab to stop, and when I asked for Zamalek, the cab driver responded in good English "Where in Zamalek?" Busted. I asked for my destination, and off we went.

The driver asked where I was from, and told me I looked Egyptian. Pretty standard fare. But from there, in true Egyptian style, we went straight to the personal questions.

"Do you have a husband?" I do, I answered. "Well, where is he?" I explained he was in America.
"How long has he been gone?"

"Uh, two weeks. He'll be back soon."

"Soon? Two weeks is a long time. When he comes back?"

I lied, "Two more weeks."

"Four weeks!" The driver exploded. "He don't love you?"

Dear God. "Yes, but he'll be back soon, and I know he loves me."

"But four weeks, he can't kissing you, loving you, sexing you! How you go four weeks without sexing?"

I stammered something inane, praying that this cab would be transmogrified into some Star-Trek-instantaneous-arrival vehicle. And then came the moment I'd been dreading.

The driver fixed me with a steely gaze. "You want an Egyptian boyfriend? I'm very nice."

"Um, no thanks."

"Why? Why no Egyptian boyfriend? I'm an engineer."

Where's that Earth-destroying asteroid when you need it??? "I don't think my husband would like it."

The conversation continued in this fashion until I lurched out of the cab 3 blocks shy of my destination. I threw some cash at the driver and high-tailed it up a one-way street.

I wanted to buy a microwave and a vacuum, but even though I was walking around with a ton of cash, my budget couldn't afford both items. I settled for the vacuum, because I'd rather suffer cold food than an angry housekeeper. I mean, I promised her I'd get a vacuum soon, because I could see the disapproval - could it have been disappointment in my worth as a woman? - in her eyes last week when I confessed I lacked a vacuum.

So now I'm back home, with my vacuum and my maybe-cat. I'm having a few people over tonight for some drinks. I can only hope that my friends are less interested in my sex life than a random Cairene cab driver. At least the cat is. I think.