It has been raining since October. When they tell you that Turkmenistan is a desert country, they lie. Today it is absolutely pouring, and it’s been raining since yesterday evening. I fell asleep listening to the rain on the roof. Like the rest of the planet, I am calmed by the sound of rain on a roof at night. In my case, it reminds me of my summer cottage. Despite the pleasant sound of rain, I am ready for it to stop now. I am tired of having to towel off the dog when she returns from the yard, and of waiting in the rain for the car that takes me to work. I am also tired of arriving at meetings soaking wet (my raincoat is black plastic and insufficiently professional for work) I suppose I should just be grateful that I have a raincoat, and that the hot wear has held off a little longer. I am not looking forward to the hot.

Kir and I have been celebrating the repair of the DVD player by watching many episodes of Buffy. This is a good thing. Last night we watched two episodes of Buffy, and went for a long walked. The walk was especially exciting because I had forgotten my purse. Legally, you must carry ID at all times in Turkmenistan, and I had none. It felt like driving without taking my driver’s license, except that the driver’s license thing bears fewer consequences. Lilya was once taken to the police station and held for several hours because she was out without her ID. I don’t know if it would be better or worse for a foreigner.

Tomorrow Kir has a job interview. Keep your fingers crossed. The job doesn’t exactly pay well - $9,000 a year, but it would give him something to do every day, and make his resume look more like that of a responsible adult. Since he is in fact a responsible adult, it would be nice if his resume reflected that. Of course, if he gets this job, we will stay in Turkmenistan for at least a year after he starts it (the resume thing again) and another 14 months of Turkmenistan stretches out in front of me like a prison sentence if I think about it too hard.

But anyway. Kir is getting his hair cut today in preparation for the interview. Everybody wish him luck tomorrow.

After initially telling me that my constant nausea sounded like pregnancy (leaving me stunned and gaping until I counted days in my head and realized it was in fact impossible (which is good)) my friend the doctor has concluded that I am probably just having a reaction to the metformin. I am not going to stop the metformin, because it’s my new best friend. Goodbye discolored skin. Hello weight loss. If nausea is the price I pay, so be it.

Tonight we go to the gym, and have dinner with our gym buddy. It’s a good thing, I guess. I need to get back in the gym habit. But I really don’t feel like going. Probably because I have fallen out of the habit, which makes it all the more important that I go. Feh.

Speaking of fitness attempts, Kir’s parents brought an entire suitcase of American snack food to Paris with them. (hang in there, this is not a non-sequiter) They ate some of it for breakfast, and sent the rest with Kir. This morning I had a nutrigrain muffin bar for breakfast. After eating it, I liked at the nutritional info and realized it is almost completely devoid of nutritional value. I ways thought nutrigrain stuff was full of fiber or something. But no. Its only claim to healthiness was all the vitamins it was enriched with, and since I take a multivitamin, I am indifferent. One frigging gram of fiber. Crappy American snack food. Tomorrow I will eat part of my Lindor chocolate bunny for breakfast. (Probably the left leg. The ears, head, and neck are now long gone) At least it’s delicious. (I do love Kir for bringing me the chocolate bunny)

From emails I have been getting lately, I realize some people think I am actually Uzbek. I am not Uzbek. I don’t even live in Uzbekistan any more. And you’re all morons if you can’t tell I am a native English speaker. I refer you to these entries for further enlightenment. They are, I admit, somewhat outdated. I am now 27, married, and living in Ashgabat. But I am still American.

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USAID is one of many donors for the project I work for. The views expressed herein are the author’s own views and do not necessarily reflect those of the author’s employer or especially those of the United States Agency for International Development or the United States Government. And I mean it. I probably give the US government heart attacks.