I am back in my homeland for the Holidays, my very special time of year. Soaking in all the family time and love that I can, acknowledging my sweet inhalations of what I always miss between visits, constantly reminding myself what a sentimental freak I am….
Last night was a special party night, as the clock went back one hour at 2 am, bestowing upon the working people that delicious extra hour of sleep (FYI- Sunday is a working day here in Israel).
After sampling a few hot spots and enjoying what Tel Aviv has to offer at night (a lot!), including a few sips (which is all my mutant system needs to make me think that I'm trashed drunk...) of my favorite alcohol (that I can NEVER find in NY- Arak- can somebody help me import it pleeeez??), I crash at my dear friend Karin’s place. Her cat Gandolfini (James, she has a crush) is the sweetest snugilicious kitten ever- among the ugly cats, that is (although she truly believes he’s the most beautiful cat in the world).
Karin forgot her cell in the car. I convinced her not to walk drunk the five blocks to her car, and instead- to use my own Israeli cell to wake us up in time to drop off a Gandolfini’s gift to the world at the vet’s office and make it to (her) work on time, after dropping me off.
Karin got all kooky OCD on me, and checked the time on my phone twelve hundred times, cuz she didn’t trust me when I assured her again and again that in the States the cell phones change the times automatically.
It didn’t cross my intoxicated mind for one second that we’re actually IN ISREAL and this is an ISRAELI PHONE, and here you have to change the clock manually…. What’s so much more incredible is how I managed to convince HER that my cell clock was magically showing the new time….. But when you’re drunk and tired, it all makes sense (after testing the alarm 300 times).
Cut to….
10:15 am: Am waiting half asleep for Karin in the car, when she storms in, yelling:
“I can’t believe these f---ing potheads! They are supposed to open at 10!!!!!!!!!. What am I gonna do?”. Not waiting for my response (not that I had one), she storms out of the car, looking like a crazy woman about to vandalize anything that stands in her way to figure out what’s wrong with Gandol’s poop.
10:20 am: She’s not back. Now I’M getting worried I’m gonna miss my 12 noon appointment. If we don’t leave NOW, I’m not going to be able to stop by home first to change! I call home, in an effort to tailor a contingency plan. My dad answers the phone, and when I finally let him plug in a word, I hear it : “But it’s only 9:20, re-lax!”. Noooooo.
9:21 am. I call Karin, right before she breaks vet’s office door. I tell her the real time. She screams and then threatens to kill me. She comes back to the car, and after describing how she’s gonna kill me (strangulation), I hear: “You’re gonna pay for this. You’re gonna pay BIG time. I want at least 2 hours of sleep from you. From your OWN stock!!!”. She’s very serious. So I agree. I will give her two extra hours, taken directly from my personal quota, even three. Only then do we finally calm down and stop screaming at each other. And we both take responsibility. And then laugh hysterically.
It happened this morning, I swear, but I’m still not quite sure that it did. Regardless, instead of letting it be an embarrassing occurrence that should be kept between the two of us (and my dad, who’s still laughing at his ditzididoo offspring), I am telling the world. I am owning my absurdities and accepting them. I highly recommend it to you all!!!
Happy and Sweet New Jewish Year!
I am beyond exhausted, which leads to more typos here than real words (Word is my co-writer tonight. Many thanks!). It’s been a long day and I am crashing.
Goodnight! Sleep well, and sweet dreams, wherever you are!
(Gandolfini’s poop is spotless, thanks for asking)
