M is for Murder (Mushroom Underwear and Monkey Hashish)

Today I have been in the looniest of states. My Shakespirit has come to visit me upon multiple occasions *for those of you that know me well, and quite many of you do, you know that I sometimes like to talk like dear William…and even write like him too! Which proves to be problematic when writing 6,000 word papers about female youth development—a thing that, according to my super genius professor, doesn’t even exist.*

Double mumble, annoyed and troubled.
Skin from curling iron burned and coffee pot bubbled…

You get the drift.

I woke up this morning, well I think it was morning, to stumble to the bathroom (apparently I had fallen asleep with my contacts in again and one happened to fall out in my sleep) and there was red stuff ALL over the place. It was a really pretty shade of red that almost matched my favorite red lipstick that I lost after engaging in massive amounts of Nile festivities. This red stuff however was even smudged on my bathroom mirror. It was kind of goopy…I felt like I should panic because maybe I murdered someone but was too tired to question the mystery substance and instead began thinking about the one time that I somehow managed to cut my foot open (I think my sister and I were dancing like maniacs outside or doing something we weren’t supposed to be doing) and ran into my house, without realizing that I was leaving massive puddles of blood in the doorway and by the refrigerator. My feet really tend to bleed a lot when they are cut, which is not good for sporadic drunken dancing, or just dancing in general. I pondered this over, ignoring the fact that there could have been a dead body within inches of my bed because I tend to do really crazy thing when I sleep *like sleep-walking in heels and eating brownies while crawling into another friends bed* as I floated back to my own slumber haven and its magic sleeping spells and abruptly drifted back to hibernation.

***I did have to wake up however and spent hours at the library, only taking a break to talk to my dear friend Marie and eat mushroom soup…that was actually more like milk soup, with bits of mushroom thrown in and several sizable chunks of butter. Good thing I really like milk.***

When I got home I decided to do laundry, which proved to be VERY interesting to say the least. I really hate doing laundry, it’s my second least favorite chore (the first happens to be packing, even though I love to travel, so it’s a bit ironic). So I went downstairs wearing mismatched house slippers, half real clothes half pajama clothes, and forgot that I was in the process of washing off my make up—so mascara was more than likely smeared to the highest point of heaven. There I found this young Egyptian fellow, who didn’t speak any English it turns out. I just nodded at him, I was still fuming over how incapable my graduate department is, and continued to sort out my clothes in the ways that my mother thinks she taught me.

Brights with brights….but I only have two brights, so I guess those can go with the whites? Hmmmm…these underwear are both bright and dark, maybe those can go in there too. 

I ended up shoving everything into the machine and pressed several buttons, it’s all in Arabic and has weird dials and shapes it turns out, until the machine bounced to life.

Egyptian Fella: Salem is new?

Me: Hello, no. I’ve lived here for awhile now, shukran!

Egyptian Fella: Ohhhhhh. Hennah?

Me: Yes, here. Well, not in this laundry room. Upstairs. *Realizes he is staring, perhaps in horror, at my  mascara covered face in a rather odd way*

Egyptian Fella: Meshy. Shisha? Hasish?

Me: Ummmmm. I do like shisha, but no hashish! Shukran. *I turn to leave.*

Egyptian Fella: Monkeyyyy Hasish? Aaywah?

Me: Monkey? Monkey’s don’t smoke hashish do they?

Egyptian Fella: *Rattles around in his laundry bag and pulls out something that looks like candy*

Me: Oh! Malesh! La shukran, I am, um, dieting! *and would prefer not to eat your lint covered drug, because I’m sure that’s what it probably is*

Egyptian Fella: Meshy! One minute! *He gets this really excited grin on his face, hands me his laundry bag, and then runs upstairs *

Me: I quickly drop all of his things, grab mine, and run upstairs to my room. Which proves to be rather tricky in my not-so-sneaky-squeaky-house slippers.

***Hours later I returned with my clean laundry, apparently it take 3 hours to wash the laundry no matter how many clothes actually need to be washed, and then an hour or more for drying. I began to sort through my clothes and found a questionable pair of women’s blue underwear with mushrooms on them. I would never wear blue underwear with mushrooms on them, so I knew they were definitely not mine. I also found this small bag of something all crunched up! It looked like oreo cookies and mint, but it certainly did not smell like oreo cookies and mint. Since I live in Egypt I just tossed the (possibly toxic) substance outside, hoped the little camel or donkey living outside of my window wouldn't eat it, and threw the plastic bag into my trash.***

Now that I know there has not been a murder in my room, even though I didn’t check under the sink, I can continue with my productive studying--without monkey hashish...