Today I had to go to a government office to try and get a rather illusive document that we need for our visa application. When this document finally arrives with every signature and stamp in place, I will probably kiss the hand that delivers it.
But today, it remained illusive.
I took the early train across town alone in hopes of getting it all worked out by 10am. This false expectation was, perhaps, part of the problem. To write the details of this painfully inefficient ordeal would be...well, painful. Let's just say, we've been working on this for weeks. Hubs bears the brunt of the work. And I suppose today I proved that he does so with good reason.
In one of my better cultural moments, after being unable to ascertain a sufficient course of action after several inquiries, I burst into tears in a room of around 20 asian men. They were shocked, shocked and distressed, by my outburst.
We are not talking about a few tears, or even an angry-tearful exchange in light of my frustrations. We are talking --uncontrollable tears streaming down my face no matter how helpful, chivalrous and efficient the onlookers then became. Everyone in the crowded room quickly became fully aware of the weeping lady. It. Was. Awful.
Eventually, I was assisted in every way possible, including a personal escort across the 8 lanes of traffic I needed to cross to purchase a demand draft and get a notary stamp. The very kind gentleman stopped the 8 lanes by holding up his hand, as I walked sobbing beside him. I'm not exaggerating, friends. It was terrible.
By the time hubs showed up, 3 kids in tow with his own form (which had been postponed and the cause of our separate exchanges) my eyes were dry. Though it took all my self restraint.
Needless to say, I waited in the car while hubs completed the rest of the paperwork.
Have I mentioned we are leaving for a mini-vacation at the beach next week?
I won't deny I need it.