Someone stole the shirt off my back...

Well, not exactly off my back, but someone took my shirt and I'm pissed.

I went to the gym this morning - first time back since I skipped out on my medical consultation. There was no problem.

I had a good workout, and spent a while on the eliptical trainer thing because the opening ceremony of the Olympics was on. I was not planning on watching it because I think China is bad, but it was on and I actually got kind of teary eyed and choked up. I don't know why. It started when I saw the Iraqis and I thought about what their lives must be like. Then the group from Sudan, and then Lebanon, and on and on it went, almost every country I saw was either presently involved in some horrible war or genocide, or political turmoil. They must have been all clustered together. Everyone looked so proud and so happy, and it was kind of moving. The Argentines were really cute, they looked the happiest of all.

Then I went and worked out for a bit and then returned to the eliptical trainer for another 15 minutes, but ended up staying on for 25 minutes because I wanted to see if the Americans were coming out. I must have missed them because the last group was China - Yao Ming was cute, but the Chinese guys who were walking behind him were kind of goofy. Are those people all athletes or are some of them just rich or lucky people who were chosen to march?

Well, anyway, then I went up to the locker room to change. At this point I was really hungry, and also sweaty. I hung my shirt on a bar so that it would dry off a little before I put it in my bag and then got changed. I stopped for lunch, had a steak and salad (steak number 2 this week), stopped at an optrician to buy a new pair of reading glasses and came home and emptied my bag and threw my gym clothes in the sink to wash them. That is when I noticed there was no shirt.

I went out to the living room to check my bag and it was not there. And then I remembered I hung it up and forgot to put it in my bag.

I rushed back to the gym, went up to the locker room and it was not there. I asked the guy in the clothing check room if anyone had turned it in and he said no (but told me I should have given it to him to hang inside the room - kind of dumb since it was only intended to be for a few minutes - I really hate "should haves" from people after something bad happens).

I looked again to see if maybe it was on a bench or something, but it was not there.

Now I am pissed and will be keeping my eye out for anyone who is wearing my shirt. I have the exact same shirt in red, so I will be able to study every detail of it and will know for sure if it is mine. I guess Argentines are not as honest as the Japanese. What really pisses me off is that anytime I find anything in the gym I always turn it in. It's kind of creepy to take someone's sweaty gym clothes and make them your own.

I think I am also in a bad mood because of this mysterious telephone caller. The first night they called I had fallen asleep watching the news and when the phone rang and woke me up I realized the news was over and there was a talk show on. Then when Hernan was here, they called and he joked that it was the doctor. Yesterday when Norma, the cleaning lady was here someone called. I asked her if it was normal for people to call and hang up like that. She said maybe it was a wrong number. It's weird though because it doesn't even seem like there is anyone on the other end.

Well, last night was the last straw. I was sound asleep and the phone rang in the middle of the night. Then it stopped and I fell back to sleep. But then it rang again and I answered it and there was no one there. It was 3:30 a.m. At that point I was unable to fall back to sleep.

Walking back from discovering that someone stole my shirt I was really pissed and getting really tired of breathing exhaust fumes, dodging traffic and breathing second hand smoke.

Maybe I am due for a bit of pampering at the spa or something. It's not good that only one week of being here and I am beginning to get cranky about the minor annoyances of life in the big city.