Everyone’s entitled to a crappy day

Rob is napping under a steel table in a Russian Laundromat, and for some reason the surly yet petite laundry lady is letting him. When we first entered, she had all eight machines running, and snarled at us something that I interpreted as “No time for your laundry. I have all these loads and eight more after that.” Having nothing else planned for the day, we sat down and said we’d wait. As Rob settled in for his nap, I reassured myself that as surly as Laundry Lady was, our laundry would get done before the place closed at 10 pm.

That’s been my experience so far in St. Petersburg. Even when the person we’re asking for help snarls and seems to hate us, they do eventually get us what we need. And that’s what matters. Not thay they like me, but that our clothes get clean. (Actually, the people I asked for directions to the Laundromat were very very kind, but they ultimately were unable to point us in the right direction.)

Today is a throwaway day. I’m suffering with a cold and Rob is recovering from overindulging in vodka after I went to bed early. He had a crazy night, and mine felt just as crazy when I woke up and saw that he wasn’t back and hadn’t posted on Facebook for hours. I panicked and called the US Consulate to report him missing. The very nice young man whom I woke up said there wasn’t much he could do until noon today, but Rob walked in the door shortly thereafter. I won’t be letting him out of my sight again.