Frustration

Today, I am frustrated with learning to live in a new country.  It seems that everything I have tried to do today has not gone well.

First, Claire woke up on the whiny side of the bed.  That's never a pleasant way to start a day.

After having some breakfast, we headed out to knock some things off of our to-do list.  First, I walked 20 minutes to the cell phone store.  Upon arrival at the cell phone store, I was told that before we can get cell phones, Gordon has to print something out at work that verifies his employment.  Until then, we can't begin the process of getting cell phones here.  Strike one.  Furthermore, when we can start the process, it's going to take 2 weeks to actually get the phone because iPhones are on backorder.  Two weeks doesn't seem like a terribly long time, but let me tell you that there is something unsettling about being out and about with just me and Claire in a foreign country and no way to contact anyone.  So I want a cell phone!  Having had a cell phone since my early college years (I don't even want to add up how long that is), I depend on it for a sense of security.  But I will wait...

Next, we walked over to the train station.  I wanted to buy a half fare card.  For a set price, I will be able to buy a card that lasts one year and entitles me to buy all train fares at half price.  Since I will have to take the train to meet with the other moms and kids on Wednesday and Friday, I wanted to get the card today.  Upon arrival at the train station, I was told that I need an passport-sized photo of myself in order to get the card.  I did not have a passport photo.  Strike two.

After leaving the train station, I figured we would head to the grocery store for the supplies we needed for tonight's dinner.  I didn't want to morning to be a total waste.  But alas, I forgot the grocery list.  And Gordon requested fettucini alfredo for dinner.  No way did I have those ingredients memorized.  So I couldn't get our shopping done.  This meant that I would have to go back to the store later during my precious, once-a-week laundry time.  Strike three.

Isn't it supposed to be that after three strikes, you're out?  Well, my luck, or lack thereof, kept going.

We came back to the apartment and I got Claire ready for her nap.  She had her milk and I put her down.  I busied myself with cleaning the apartment and getting the laundry ready for later.  Claire was in there chattering away, taking forever to fall asleep.  After about 40 minutes, she was finally quiet.  When she woke up an hour and a half later, I realized why it took her so long.  I had forgotten to turn off the light!  Strike four.

While Claire napped, it was time to start on the much-needed and much-awaited laundry.  When we move from our temporary apartment to a permanent one of our choosing, we are going to buy our own washer and dryer.  I can not deal with this one time a week laundry deal for very long.  So I carried the laundry down and got started.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  I could not figure out how to work those darn machines.  Everything on them is written in German, French, and Italian.  What's wrong with English?!  After wasting about 3 and a half Swiss Francs trying to figure the machines out (strike five), my clothes were finally washing.

Upstairs I went and prepared lunch for Claire and me.  When Claire awoke from her bright nap, we had lunch and then headed out to the grocery store.  I found all the ingredients for Gordon's fettucini alfredo and boy, were they expensive!  We paid for the groceries and headed out.  Into the pouring rain.  Strike six.  I had remembered the rain cover for Claire's stroller, but I forgot an umbrella for myself.  So I got completely soaked.  Also, I was wearing flip flops.  Do you know how hard it is to walk up the hills of Vevey in wet flip flops?  It's pretty darn hard.

So we got back to the apartment, dried off, and went to check the laundry.  I could not get one of the washing machines open, no matter what I did!  Strike seven.  I tried everything.  After having visions of calling the French-speaking building guy to tell him I broke the washing machine, I tried paying for another spin cycle.  That did the trick.  After spinning the clothes again, to the tune of 1 Swiss Franc, I was able to get my clothes out.  

Did I mention that it's only 3:30 p.m.?

So all of these things by themselves are just little things, but added all together, they're making me a very frustrated American right now.  I long for my own house with my own washing machine and my own dryer and a car that takes me, nice and dry, to and from the grocery store.