the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I'm sitting in my kitchen. It's dark, out and in, except for headlights there and a candle here. And now, the glow of my computer screen, which brings some cheer to the place. The smell is still pervasive but will diminish with time. I have hot tea and a hot meal and I have my health. I am, in the moment, happy. Hot tea does much to lift my spirits. If that makes me a woman of simple pleasures, I'm good with that.

"Kismet," my neighbor and arkadash (friend) said yesterday when I began telling him about my last two days. "Problem yok." (Big smile.) As I went on, he smiled bigger. "Kismet," he repeated. "No problem." By the time I got to the lost luggage part, he was laughing. He said, “Kismet? You,”--here he looked heavenward and made the sign of the cross a few times--”HAHAHAahahahahaha."

Kismet translates as Fortune, as in The Wheel of. Nicep (NEE-jep) was intimating that perhaps it's my turn to be at the bottom, sunk in the mud while I wait for the wheel to pull me back up.

He gave me some hot tea, called my landlord and the electric company, determined that nothing could be done about my problem on a Sunday, and graciously allowed me to take a hot shower in his flat. He tried to feed me, but I was more tired than anything, so I declined, went to my cold cave, and burrowed into a pile of blankets.

But let me begin at the beginning.

It's been quite the hectic week, so nothing much surprises me now. Mich and I had no honeymoon, and the one day we planned to spend together in front of the fire drinking good coffee, snuggling with furred creatures, and playing board games was sucked up by an overnight layover in San Francisco. Our last days together for this trip went something like this:

Tuesday, 28 February 2012: Fly to Victoria (early); check in at Abigail's, then stroll into town to buy the marriage license before finding a place to have a good meal. Return to the pad and melt into a huge, hot tub. Crash in exhaustion.

Wednesday, 29 February 2012: Relax, kill time, take a hot bath, realize that we killed a bit too much time then scramble to finish getting ready as our photographer, Wally, had arrived early. Begin photo sessions. Meet and hug our honored guests--Lorraine, her husband Michael, and their son Timothy; along with Lorraine's sister Kathy and her husband Brian. Chat a bit (they're every bit as charming in person as they are online--perhaps even more so). Meet Iain, who is a laid-back happy (semi-retired) man; discuss the details of the ceremony. Ceremony at, oh, 4:15 or so. A few more photos, then change clothes and go a few blocks away to a fantastic restaurant. Bid adieu to guests, a family at a time. Go back to the pad and crash in exhaustion.

(Yeah yeah. I'll post details of the ceremony and pictures soon. And if I don't, I count on my loyal readers to hound me until I do. OK? OK.)

1 March 2012: Wake at a decent hour, grab a bath, pack everything into our one piece of luggage, then head back to the airport. Our flight was scheduled for 1:28pm. It didn't leave until about 7pm. It had something to do with air traffic control problems in San Fran. This meant we missed our connecting flight (to Los Angeles, then to Denver), so we put up at the airport Radisson. (No...United didn't pay for it. They just offered us a discounted rate...they said.) I wouldn't have known by that point and probably wouldn't have cared. Order pizza--our first meal of the day--then crash in exhaustion.

The astute reader should be spotting a theme.

2 March 2012: Wake at a reasonable hour, breakfast on what's left of the pizza (amazing pizza, by the way, with crunchy, dripping fresh vegetables). Back to the airport to catch flight. This one was late, too, I think. Something like, oh...two hours, maybe three? I've already lost track. We got back to the house at 7pm. Unpacked the travel kit and I repacked for the next day. Crash in Exhaustion.

3 March 2012: Up and on the road back to Denver International Airport at 6am. Flight scheduled for 10:31am, so my math was bad. We arrived shortly after 7. Worse...I forget that even a Denver to Munich flight (which this was billed as) stops at Dulles for a while, which meant I only needed to be there one hour before flight time. “Flight time” ended up being an hour or two later than planned. Of course. We arrived in Dulles, changed planes, then...sat on board for an hour and a half before they deplaned us again. It seems they had some parts that needed replacing first, and they couldn't keep us on there too long. We finally flew at 10pm (the flight was supposed to leave at 5:30pm). Sigh.

Through all this, mind you, I was complacent and accepting. Doesn't do any good to get frustrated. It just upsets the help and it isn't their fault, anyway. But I was getting tired.

4 March 2012: Arrive in Munich 4.5 hours late. Everyone in the flight simply deboards and queues up at the ticket counter to reschedule their flights. I was probably the only one who walked directly to my connecting flight and got on (I was to have a sizeable layover in Munich).

About 5pm, I walked through customs in Izmir and to the baggage claim area, where a man was already looking for me. My luggage, they already knew, had not made the connection in Munich. I said, “Of course,” and filled out the paperwork. I didn't feel like lugging that one overloaded piece home right now, anyway, and I'd be fine a day or two without it. No worries.

I hopped the metro then a bus home. I was still dressed in my jammies, of course. All I wanted, really, was a hot shower and a warm bed. I was too tired to even think about the internet, if that tells you anything.

At about 6pm, I opened my front door and encountered The Smell. I've never had food in a refrigerator spoil then sit for weeks before, so this was a new and exciting experience for me. There was no electricity in the apartment, but before I looked at anything, I fetched some bags and emptied the freezer. If my stomach hadn't been empty, it would have been in short order. I've never been that up close and personal with truly rotting meat. It's enough to make me return to a vegan diet without remorse.

I dry heaved while I heaved the nastiest stuff out, then washed what I could down the drain from the drawers and shelves. The smell abated a bit, not that most people could tell. Think of the “difference” between 110 and 118F, and you get the idea.

Next, I went looking for my electrical problem. Sometimes, a stranger will shut if off thinking it's his. I figured this had happened.

Nope. This is when I knocked on Necip's door. He invited me in, made me sit, and gave me tea before he let me talk. Bless him.

He made a couple of phone calls--to my landlord then to the electric company, which was closed on Sunday, of course--and got nowhere. Then we went up and checked my electrical box; he pointed out that the electric company had disconnected me, probably for unpaid bills.

This baffled me a bit, needless to say. My bills are automatically paid from my bank account, and I've never had a problem. I even threw extra money into the account before I left to make sure everything would be covered. Hm.

Nicep, with the help of my landlord's daughter, who speaks passable English, told me to get a printout of my bill history from the bank and take that to the electric company.

I went back to my cold apartment, cocooned into several blankets, and dozed off. I'd left a candle burning and my watch next to it, so when I woke up I could tell what time it was. My cell phone--which is my alarm clock--was dead, and I had no way to recharge it yet.

5 March 2012: I overslept, but not by as much as I might have expected. I rose, dressed quickly (COLD), and caught a bus to work, where I appeared to everyone who might wonder where I am and why, then left again to take care of my problems. First, I got a printout of my bill history from the bank, and it wasn't pretty.

It seems that my electric bills have been phenomenally high (instead of 350TL or less as they should be, they've been 750, 1100, and over 1200TL). The last bill was for the month of February, during which everything in my apartment was turned off and unplugged for three weeks, and the electricity was probably discontinued for two weeks of that, no less--but it's the biggest bill of all. So yeah...somethin' here is fishy.

The housing office faxed documents for me, contacted the landlord and electric company, and explained that by Turkish law, I have to pay the bill (while they figure out what the problem is) before they turn my power back on. I didn't have the cash on me and couldn't access it at the moment, so my landlord went ahead and paid the 1200TL to get my power back on immediately (is that an awesome landlord or what?). Then they called the electric company and urged them to come turn me back on earlier rather than later; my power was restored at about 7pm.

The electric company is testing my box to see if it's malfunctioning. Something tells me this is a different problem altogether, though. If it were the box and the box alone, how did I get such a phenomenal bill in February when the box was cut off for at least half of the month?

It's a mystery.

The housing office also, quick like a bunny, arranged to have my refrigerator switched out. They did that at 2:30 this afternoon. The place is still a bit smelly, even after my Pine Sol mopping and the removal of the offending box, but it's already almost livable. I have coffee grounds in cups sitting just everywhere in the apartment now. I might have to send my rugs in to have them cleaned.

I fetched my bag from the airport around 1:30 today, too, so I have my stuff.

Now, most things are okay, I guess, except for the fact that my jet lag is unforgiving tonight. It's almost midnight and I'm wide awake. In the grand scheme of things, though, I'm doing surprisingly well.

Y'all be well.

d