Thwarted.

A great word, that. Try getting students to pronounce it, and get ready to run from the incoming phlegm tide...
...but it describes yesterday quite well. I had intended, it being sunday and having just been paid, to spend the afternoon and evening in the garden, doing nothing but languish in the sun, eat mezes and barbecued things, and drink glass after glass of milk white, ice-cold raki, while chatting and laughing with my wife, and not worrying about a thing for a few blissful hours.
Fat Fucking Chance.
It pissed down all afternoon; Nur got up, then went out for FOUR HOURS, leaving me stuck at home, then spent the rest of the day, first gardening, then watching a video! All whilst my son was becoming increasingly bored and restful and kicking up a stink. And then, just to wrap it up, she began going on about our money problems at 10 o'clock in the evening after I'd dosed myself up on raki! I couldn't take it; I just decided to go upstairs and curl up into a ball, and sleep the righteous sleep of the distilled-grape-and anise blessed.
...and was promptly disturbed by screeching, yelling and fighting from some arseholes on the street at about 2 in the morning. I drifted into a vague sleep afterwards, only to dream vividly about places in my own dream 'metaworld'. These are places that I frequently visit in the night, and to which I ascribe symbolic ideas, moods, worries etc. Last night, I was in the City of Antiquities, a dusty and morose place somewhere hot. I was walking up and down a marble paved street, looking up to a museum with a gaping roof and large windows, stuffed with busts and statues, and opposite was a small, rock cut tomb (empty), reminiscent of a Lycian grave. I was thinking of stealing one of the statues, though God knows why. Later, the dream faded, and I was in a busy city street, first going through a series of deserted underground shops, then upwards through narrow alleys. Then I realised I was dreaming, and decided to try to fly. I only got a couple of feet off the ground, and caught sight of myself in a mirror (arms outstretched, a small pair of white wings flapping lazily) before I woke up.