Crashing with soggy feet

I woke up for the second morning feeling very tired. Knowing that I had a doctor's appointment at 9am I'd woken up at about 6am, and never really got back to sleep, assisted by thin curtains and noisy dustbin men. Clambering out of bed I saw that it was snowing quite heavily outside, and tried to dress accordingly, the only problem being I'd not packed for snow. In a few hours my feet would be soaked, but it wasn't till the end of the day that my spirits were truly dampened.

Riding the tram out to the westbank (Buda), I got off and went into the underpass, intending to head south. The snow was thick and I hoped the surgery wasn't far along the road, since it actually went off the bottom of my map, which was getting damp in the flurrying white drizzle. After walking for about fifteen minutes, and phoning the receptionist to tell her I'd be late, I found someone to ask for directions. Quickly I discovered that I was in completely the wrong place, having confused two of the bridges, and tromped off northward, back to square one, my feet slowly stewing in my shoes.

Eventually I found the doctors, and after a twenty minute way, during which I filled in their form and read a little of the copy of Ovid Joel gave me, I was ushered into the exam room. A very attractive female doctor saw me, and began asking the usual questions. She couldn't understand why I'd left England for this 'poorly-paid wasteland', where she said she got no respect, and a terrible wage. I didn't ask her why she'd left the Middle East to come here herself. When she read on my form that I'd once attempted suicide she was stunned. She couldn't fathom why I might do it, and basically told me how utterly crazy and foolish I was. I suspect it was a cultural misunderstanding, since there are still a lot of people, primarily those outside the US and the UK, who hold this sort of view, and can't really understand depression at all.

Formalities through with, I set off for the office. To reach there it seemed necessary to me to find an enormous puddle, and plunge into it, so that my already soaked shoes took on a ratio where they were more water than material. At my desk I quickly removed my shoes, and even my socks. Whenever I had to go and see someone I slipped my shoes back on temporarily, and relieved myself once more when I could sit down. It was to be another day where I understood very little, and gained even less knowledge of what it was I was to do there. Endless computer systems, with their usual puzzling abbreviations, and complex processes of acquiring access to them.

Some of the guys at work kindly took me out to lunch with them, to a place near the office that served huge portions for miniscule prices, and was apparently called something innocuous, like 500 Eyes. This is what was left of the Baked Alaska I ordered, and I was certain could sustain the entire population of that outer US province. I was a little surprised, because the guys I was with were so very friendly, and didn't seem at all phased by my being gay. We chatted quite happily, about various things, including my views on chicken farming, and the Body-Mass-Index of suitcases.

By the time I was heading home, though, I realised I was reaching a mini crisis point. Going home in the dark, feeling very tired and needing to go to Tesco, life felt very bleak, and I wondered why the hell I'd moved all the way here if there weren't to be any perks. I felt sad, lonely, and despondent of the tired monotony of the daily grind, especially since I didn't feel in the least sure when I'd be able to go into work and just get on with my own bits. The dream seemed to be crashing down around my ears. I texted my sister to say as much, and she tried calling to offer solace. Sadly I missed her call, and had not a clue how to pick up my voicemail.

Coming back from Tesco I resolved to be proactive and figured out everything I needed to do before bed: cook some dinner, write my blog, have a shower, and catch up with my sister on MSN. I managed three out of four, and considered it a fair score. Setting the alarm for the morning, I cuddled in under my bedclothes, and tried to make the best of things, if not entirely convinced.