Josh is in a funk this morning because he jumped through every hoop possible to get our utilities turned on yesterday, but he failed. And since today is a holiday (Islamic new year), when he got the text from the utilities company (in Arabic, of course) informing him that “his application failed because he’s not authorized for that address” there was no one to call to vent his frustrations. So he settled for sending an email and What’s App to the landlord’s agent and went to the gym.
He did have some successes yesterday, like opening a bank account. Supposedly I can be added to the account later, but we’ll see. Sometimes the woman/housewife thing makes normal things difficult here. A friend was stuck having to make ATM withdrawals daily to get her money out of the bank because her husband was away on business and the bank didn’t recognize her as an owner on the account.
Josh was also able to negotiate the repairs needed on the house with the maintenance man, including getting a gas line run (which just means drilling a hole through the outside wall and running some tubing through it) and putting in a hookup for a washing machine. I guess the previous tenants had it in the kitchen, but the hookup isn’t there anymore so hopefully it can be installed upstairs in as non-janky a way as possible. They were also going to leave the light switches and outlets open and uncovered, saying that was “normal” until Josh pointed out that the upstairs ones all have plate covers and then they agreed to go find some and cover them.
I know he’s most aggravated that all these details (along with continuing pay/reimbursement issues on the US side) are a distraction from his actual job. The utilities are the the last bit standing in the way of the house being made ready for us to move in — then we have to deal with the movers to see when they can deliver!
Meanwhile I enjoy my perfectly segmented pink grapefruit and my bottomless cappuccinos, feeling a little bit guilty that there is absolutely nothing I can do to help him out, but also really thankful that I don’t have to go deal with all of those people and government offices. The having a vagina thing is both a curse and a blessing. I may not have the authority to go get a bank account on my own, but then I’m also not expected to deal with all of that “official man stuff.” Today, being a woman is a mark in the Win column (in my opinion). If I ever get in a car accident, it won’t be. I’ll take the perks where I can get them.
