I stink. That's a fact. My hair is limp and greasy, thanks to Bangkok's terrific air pollution, and gray sweat is slowly cooling down my face. Today, after a three-hours run through buses, taxis, sky trains and subways, I finally find the [small and over-priced] market for foreigners where my friend Chiara wanted to meet at all costs, and I get robbed half an hour later by an obnoxious pickpocket. Visa and all. After the first moments of inevitable panic, I come home, call my banker, and hang up, slightly comforted by his soothing speech. I'm suddenly very tired. I flop into my bed and, reaching for my mp3 player, realize that it's just been thoroughly crushed. On a more alarming level, so did my XF season 2 boxset.

I rush into the shower, the water is ice-cold. When I step out I feel a little better, clean, and cool. My cellphone rings. Julia my best pal, no doubt. I pick up and start to babble non-stop about painful menstruation, greasy hair and my horrendous day.

"Erm...That's your banker, Miss D."

Could I possibly be more mortified ?