Nowhere to Nest

Number of Cockroach Sightings: 0

Number of Burekas Consumed: 6 (whilst walking the 5 minute walk back from the bakery. I am pregnant you know.)

This morning we took our usual bus ride to the neighbourhood we are flat hunting in.  On arrival we spend HALF AN HOUR walking around in the sweltering heat looking for number 68. The road is cut in half by a row of small shops, and the sign points on one side to numbers 1 – 49, and the other side from 70 – 100 or something. Tell me, is it us? We wandered around completely lost and have been told that the numbers in this neighbourhood are totally unreliable, somebody literally built a load of blocks and numbered them willy nilly. I tried calling the lady who had listed the ad, but she didn’t answer. Probably because she is deaf. This is no joke, when I called her this morning, she sounded surprised to hear from me, told me it was her son’s place, and told me she is quite deaf, couldn’t hear my questions and asked me what time I wanted to view the place.

WHAT KIND OF WEIRDO ADVERTISES A FLAT TO RENT AND GIVES OUT THEIR DEAF MOTHER’S PHONE NUMBER???

So that was a waste of time.

All a little stressful as my “nesting” instinct (as the experts call it) has now kicked in, only I have nowhere to nest. Some kind friends of ours have offered to put us up indefinitely but they are new friends and we want them to continue liking us so haven’t accepted their offer just yet.

Oh, Husband is cross I didn’t mention his Kamikaze Cats gag yesterday. Basically some crazy cat did some suicidal jump off the big bin yesterday, and that’s what he said. I guess you had to be there. I would have made his gag sound funnier but I am still cross with him for burning the lentils I stupidly put him in charge of earlier.

A few people have asked me how I have time to write a blog with all the drama going on. Here’s the thing, it’s amazing how much time one gains when not properly cooking for the family. I have gone from cooking and baking practically all our meals from scratch to popping up the road to buy yet another burekah. Yum. It’s hard to imagine why anyone here would bake, apart from it being far too hot to bake the bread, pastries and challot are so cheap there doesn’t seem to be much point. My father informs me that grains in Israel are subsidised by the government (or at least they were the last time he checked, in 1950 something) but still, I think our previous local bakery (which shall remain nameless) must have been raking it in. Anyway my current unhealthy eating habits have given me plenty more hours in the day,and lets face it, the writing is keeping me sane.