It’s the simple things you miss about home, I have learned living in Abu Dhabi. Like the ability to post something without it taking 4 post offices, two hours, a hundred dirham taxi journey and genuine tears!
I had a plan for the evening you see. Post parcel, stop off at the mall for food, buy credit, invite cute guy out for drinks, get hair and nails done before said drinks (an ingenious ploy worthy of Bridget Jones whereby Cute Guy thinks my hair always looks this good).
Instead, my evening went like this
5.00 Taxi turns up twenty minutes late
5.25 Reach first post office to find it has closed. No problem, the other one opens later.
5.45 Second post office. It’s open but doesn’t have an international courier service. I begin to swear under my breath. Vaguely consider throwing the presents for my cousins into the ocean and hoping the tide gets them to Ireland.
6.15 Third post office. Is open, has international courier service but doesn’t have a box to put my stuff in. I swear out loud and cry a little bit. I can see the other workers laughing at the guy who is serving the crazy lady. Did I mention I hadn’t eaten since breakfast? This may have been a significant factor in my upset.
6.30 Leave third post office defeated and meekly ask taxi driver to “just bring me home” when like a mirage in the desert a fourth office appears before me. One last shot.
After further queueing and almost having a nervous breakdown when yer man told me I had to go somewhere else to buy the bloody box “Why? Why don’t you sell them here? Wouldn’t that make a lot more sense?” the parcel is sent.
I indulge spectacularly in a bout of comfort eating (McArabia meal instead of Subway salad) head off to the hairdressers hours later than intended and hope Cute Guy texts back before I’m done.
I hope Darragh and Ronan appreciate their presents (weeks late though they may already be!)
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