I leave in a few minutes, but not before I buy one last order of McDonald's spinach balls.

I'm glad to be leaving a house of neo-colonial furniture and eight pages of instructions on house upkeep in Spanish ("open the curtains between certain hours," etc.), which was particularly difficult because when I arrived I didn't even speak eight pages of Spanish.

That's right, kiddies: no more shaking out my shoes before putting them on in case of spiders (a trick I learned for dealing with scorpions when living in San Antonio, Texas).

No more men banging the door down during the wee hours of the morning looking for former residents. (I became an expert at tripping the alarm.)

Just snowflakes and quilts.

betholindo at 1:26 p.m.

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