Professional Housewife

Living alone teaches you a lot about yourself, and i've found that i am everything i feared and everything my mother wanted me to be:
a professional egyptian housewife.

I get home, i start cleaning, i worry about the state of the bathroom rugs and the kitchen shelves. i cant sleep till i've scrubbed the guest bathroom floor.
i hate the living room being messy and have started to resent mariam's messiness around the flat. poor girl, she didnt know she was leaving her cleaning-obsessive mother to move in with another one.
but yeah,

Wife for sale. can cook. can clean. worries about the flat. mothers mariam. cannot make pancakes to save her life.

I tried to make some this morning and they came out like porridge. how that is possible is beyound me, they're instant betty crocker pancakes just add milk, and yet i managed to scew them up.
no one can screw up instant pancakes like me.
note to self: if you ever decide to make a romantic breakfast for some guy, be sure to order in.

On lighter news, Mr. Shy Guy met Mariam last night and asked about me constantly so we know for sure that he remembers my name.
Just doesn't know how to dial some damn digits, that's all.
Maybe he has fat fingers.
Or his phone is busted.

So he agreed to come over and jam tomorow, whereupon I will stream into my flat later on in heels and sweet perfume, hair blowing in the wind, and then he will just have to call me. right?
Right.

the big football final is on friday and i'm trying to get tickets even though i have no clue about football, and tend to sit there the whole game asking questions about who's playing and why's he kicking the ball, etc, etc, etc.
But seriously,
everyone's so happy and hopeful and insanely patriotic, i just can't help getting caught up in the hysteria, flags and all, being openly proud to be egyptian,for once.

Am going out dancing tonight to vent frustration of lack of shy guy calling on the dancefloor.
Might drag my cute new coworker, mike, with me.
He's metrosexual, sings in a band and is kinda cocky, but you have to forgive him, it's not his fault, he's American.

He just told me he makes killer chocolate chip pancakes. and my eyes lit up like a birthday cake.

he is DEFINITELY coming over for breakfast.