So we all seem to be settling in to our cramped living quaters. I mean, not quite so much screaming echoing down from our courtyard. I didn't even bite anyone yesterday. Not even when mosquito o'clock came around (approx 6pm-10pm: dusk) and I found myself sitting on my synetheic, sweaty bed slapping mosquitos with dads feet in my face and poppy snoring accross the room.
When darkness findally fell, and the mosquitos quit being quite so vicious, Poppy, Ang and I moved our arses outside for a friendly game of cards. It was close all the way through, with friendliness slowly evaporating into intense yet silent competitiveness (Poppy, mostly, I swear) when, SUDDENLY, the power went out. Did I mention it was dark? Well, it was. After a half hour of mad scramble we assembled back in the courtyard with an assortment of torches, some batteries that may or may not be good, and news from the neighbores that it was a strike because the government is planning to sell everything, including power, offshore in order to hack a chunk out of the interest on its debt. A 48 hour strike. We were just starting to come to terms with this, eating our way through the ice cream in the freezer, when, with a shout (from a TV or two left on) and a squeel (from Ange), the power came back on. So much from strike. As soon as I was done wiping the floor with Poppy and Ange (I won by 3 points! Bam), we all went to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that we had power, even if we were all too unconsious to need it.
As for the carpenter. Two weeks ago he was coming on monday. Just so you know, we have very very no space in the house for anything, particularly hanging things. We really really want a cupbord. And the carpenter was hired to build us one. It was a Thursday, I believe, when he said monday, so when he didn't show on monday, we assumed he meant NEXT monday. Being Greece, he didn't show then either. In the evening he called, though, to ask when we would like him to come, which was nice. So he came this morning. Apparently, it is super expensive to get a built in wardrobe built in Greece, but when he quoted he and mum agreed on a price for a wooden one to match everything else, blah blah blah. Being Greece, but not Greek (so should the excuse apply?), lippon, being, in any case, a shoddy carpenter (as, by reputation, they ALL are here), he made a laminate wardrobe, not wood. And told mum that, yes, if she wants she can have wood, for a further two hundred euro (and two weeks, no doubt). What a malaka.
Oh Im gonna call Sophie now, Yia!!
