Pet Cemetery, a.k.a. Recipe for a Really REALLY Bad Night

Good plan. And in fact, that event went very smoothly and was overall a lot of fun with a lot of good food (real cheese - yummy!!!).

It was all of the events surrounding that event that nearly killed me (not to mention Mark).

Mark wasn't feeling well, so he didn't come to the event with me. Which was fine. I baked some brownies and headed out. I saw the very bus I could have taken to the Lincoln's home as I got down to the street, but it didn't really bother me that I missed it. Catching a taxi would be fine. As I was walking up to the bus stop (an easy place for taxis to stop), I saw a cat run into the street. [If you're thinking "uh oh, I'm not sure if I want to read this", you have the right idea. You may very well want to stop now. This story is unsuitable for children under the age of 13.]

For some crazy reason the cat looked back at me, so I called to it to come back to me because a car was indeed coming. But it didn't. It turned back, took a step ... and BAM! AHHH! I screamed - some guys looked at me like I was crazy. But the cat wasn't even dead! Yet. Another car came. I couldn't look. I looked back, briefly, to see white legs flailing in the air. GROSS!! HORRIFIC! I couldn't look, so I looked up the street and tried to figure out what to do. Ah, yes, I looked up the street. To see a huge city bus barrelling down the street. I couldn't bear to think of what was going to happen. The bus couldn't miss that cat if it wanted to. On the other hand, it would finally be the end of this poor cat's misery. And it was, I guess.

Then I had to catch my taxi. I had to look down the street, at this mass in the road, that few cars were successfully avoiding, and try to see if a taxi was coming my way. The only good thing about this trip was that a taxi full of some Baha'is saw me and stopped. They picked me up and dropped me off and didn't even let me pay. Free ride to the Lincolns. That was kind. Ugh, but I was so traumatized. I can carry a rifle and go deer-hunting with my father, but watching that cat die was horrific.

Ah, if only that was the end of my story. Right now you're thinking, Mara that was traumatizing, but come on there are a million cats in Haifa. Whatever. Well, whatever.

I got home around 10 p.m. I think. A bit later than I wanted, but we just went right to bed after a bit of crankiness in each other's direction. Remember, I said this wasn't a good night. Some neighbors were playing some very loud Arab music ... Mark, having a headache went to sleep as far away from the music as possible.

Except I didn't know that. I'd fallen asleep before he got into bed. I woke up at 1 a.m. wondering where he was, so I got up to go find him. Was he in our spare bedroom? No. So I went to check the couch. I never got there.

On the way, I stepped on something in the hallway. It sort of squished under my foot. I thought, eww, gross - a big spider!!! Oh, if only it had been. OH, IF ONLY IT HAD BEEN!!! I turned on the light, and, for the second time that night, I SCREAMED! Which woke Mark up, and he came from the direction of the couch. So, I guess that's where he had been sleeping. But I digress.

I had stepped on a LIZARD!!!! Yes! A lizard! In the house! So, I grabbed a glass and put it over top of it so it didn't scoot away. I don't think that was necessary. It was still moving, but, well, I don't know the details and for that I am infinitely grateful to Mark. He took it outside and said "make sure I go outside tomorrow before you do." Hmm, first sign that the poor lizard hadn't simply been 'released out into the wild'. I said, "I think I better wash my foot." Mark replied, " You haven't done that already!?!?!?!"

It was all too much. It was simply all too much and it was one in the morning. I started sobbing. It took me 20 minutes just to wash my foot. It really wasn't even dirty. I think all the 'grossness' went... er... out the other side, if you know what I mean. I didn't even want to touch my foot. Then, I had to wash my hand which had touched my foot. I was sobbing the entire time. At that moment all I could think of was Lady Macbeth "out, out damn spot!". In high school I wrote a paper about how I thought Lady Macbeth was schizophrenic [thank you, Nathan]. I kept thinking about that as I tried to wash away the horridness of what had just happened. Once Mark FULLY disposed of the lizard, I made him talk to me - about really random things - for another half hour because a moment of silence meant I was going to start sobbing again. We didn't fall back asleep until about 2 a.m. Fortunately the music had stopped.

I tried to drink water before going back to bed, and we each took an ibuprofen to avoid headaches (for different reasons, of course). And for Mark it worked. I woke up with a killer headache, which of course evolved into a migraine. As if the night before hadn't been bad enough.

I finally got out of bed at 2 in the afternoon. And you know I don't do that regularly. I went over to a friend's place. She was selling a bunch of her clothes. She happens to be Indian, so there were punjabis and saris galore. I spent three hours there! There were four of us there, all good friends - some other people came and went, but mostly it was us four and it was probably the best therapy I could have had. I bought 6 punjabis and a sari! Woohoo! And it was cheap to boot. Okay, I spent $200, but I got SEVEN new outfits, with seven new scarves. And the sari alone could have cost me that in the States (and maybe even in India). It is GORGEOUS. And then I came home and got rid of some of my old clothes. Very satisfying.

Wow, I'm impressed. I even managed to end this entry on a positive note. Phew.