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Midnight call???

So at around half past eight last night I called the tailor to remind him that he was meant to deliver the finished goods (academic stoles) to me soon. "Yes mam!" he chirped. "Half nine mam!" I figured that this was Bangladesh, therefore 9:30 pm = 10:00 pm. At the earliest.

But I was suuuper sleepy last night. Finally, at 10:30, I locked the main door to the flat, sent him an SMS telling him to come to the office tomorrow instead, and passed out.

The phone rang later -- tailor man! "Mam, where is your flat?" he asked. "It's late," I told him, as sternly as I could manage while unconscious. "Sorry mam, sorry mam," he said. Well, heck, he was here anyway. I told him where I was, then checked the time after hanging up. 11:48 pm. Brilliant. I put on my robe (rumored to have been stolen from a hotel, but really a gift from Mama), let him in, got the goodies and paid him and ushered him out. It was five past midnight by then. My beauty rest interrupted for strips of cloth in McDonald colors!!!

If I run amok with a pair of scissors one day, this post will reveal one of the many reasons why.

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