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3rdragonSo, there you are, kids. If you ever need to tell your Spanish-speaking friends, "This is the most difficult shower I've (n)ever taken," think back to this moment.
Tonight has been an evening for feeling silly.
Despite having used the oven twice before (and forgetting a knob last time), I forgot to set it to bake, and to set the timer, and to set the temperature. So I waited 15 minutes wondering why the oven wasn't getting hot . . .
And then I tried to take a shower. Aside from needing to wash my hair, I have a sore throat and a runny nose, and thought that hot water would feel nice.
First problem: I couldn't light the hot water heater. Well, actually, I managed the water heater just fine; I even noticed that the one knob on the gas line was turned and turned that. I just couldn't light the butane lighter to get the flame lit. The last one was running out of juice, so Pepi clearly got around to getting a new one, and I couldn't get it to light. I can light camping stoves. I can light Coleman lanterns in the dark. I can manage those nasty paper matches. I can light fires with one match - with no matches if there are still a few coals left. I can light fires in the woods when it's been raining for three days and everything is soaked. But I'm a wooden matches kind of gal. I don't like butane lighters. This is why. And the fact that the metal piece gets hot and will give you a nastier burn than the actual fire, and you're liable to forget that it's hot until it burns you.
So I knocked on Ana's door when she was practicing and she lit the water heater for me.
And all was well, right?
Of course not. The water was coming out of the faucet rather than the shower head, which it's never done before, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to switch it (turns out the little pull-up piece is in the same place as the ones at home, only it's disguised as a holder for the portable shower head). Ana to the rescue again.
And all was well?
Well, I started my shower. And when I went to rinse the soap out of my hair, I discovered that the water had gone cold. Looking through the little window, it looked like the heater had gone out. So I called Ana (who was luckily puttering around the kitchen) and stood there wet and shivering while she tried to re-light the heater - and discovered that the tank of butane was empty. So I stood there wet and shivering while she changed it and re-lit the heater.
Era la ducha más dificil que nunca he tomado.
This whole weekend has been vaguely bleh. In addition to being sick, I read the death-crumpets book (La virgen de los sicarios, The Virgin of the Hitment), which was both depressing and disturbing. And I can't even say that I didn't like the book, because it wasn't the book's fault. What I didn't like was knowing that the situation that the book describes still exists in Colombia; the drug trafficking and the casual disregard for human life and relationships, the world where someone will kill you for your nice sneakers that will probably get them killed sometime next week, and, what is perhaps the worst bit, a world where many people don't believe things can be different.
And while I knew about many of the problems in Colombia, there's a difference between knowing and reading a novel where you're immersed in that world.
I would say, "oh good, I've finished it," but I still need to watch the movie before class on Wednesday, and then we'll be discussing it for three classes.
And writing for the past two-three days has been like pulling teeth (okay, not quite that painful, actually. But slow and draggy and hard), although that finally got better today and perhaps now that Things Are Happening it will continue being better.
And homework (aside from death-crumpets) was major-time Not Happening; but the paper is short and isn't due until Tuesday evening.
I did get work done on my books on Friday, though. And people are coming over for paella tomorrow, which should be fun.
Tonight has been an evening for feeling silly.
Despite having used the oven twice before (and forgetting a knob last time), I forgot to set it to bake, and to set the timer, and to set the temperature. So I waited 15 minutes wondering why the oven wasn't getting hot . . .
And then I tried to take a shower. Aside from needing to wash my hair, I have a sore throat and a runny nose, and thought that hot water would feel nice.
First problem: I couldn't light the hot water heater. Well, actually, I managed the water heater just fine; I even noticed that the one knob on the gas line was turned and turned that. I just couldn't light the butane lighter to get the flame lit. The last one was running out of juice, so Pepi clearly got around to getting a new one, and I couldn't get it to light. I can light camping stoves. I can light Coleman lanterns in the dark. I can manage those nasty paper matches. I can light fires with one match - with no matches if there are still a few coals left. I can light fires in the woods when it's been raining for three days and everything is soaked. But I'm a wooden matches kind of gal. I don't like butane lighters. This is why. And the fact that the metal piece gets hot and will give you a nastier burn than the actual fire, and you're liable to forget that it's hot until it burns you.
So I knocked on Ana's door when she was practicing and she lit the water heater for me.
And all was well, right?
Of course not. The water was coming out of the faucet rather than the shower head, which it's never done before, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to switch it (turns out the little pull-up piece is in the same place as the ones at home, only it's disguised as a holder for the portable shower head). Ana to the rescue again.
And all was well?
Well, I started my shower. And when I went to rinse the soap out of my hair, I discovered that the water had gone cold. Looking through the little window, it looked like the heater had gone out. So I called Ana (who was luckily puttering around the kitchen) and stood there wet and shivering while she tried to re-light the heater - and discovered that the tank of butane was empty. So I stood there wet and shivering while she changed it and re-lit the heater.
Era la ducha más dificil que nunca he tomado.
This whole weekend has been vaguely bleh. In addition to being sick, I read the death-crumpets book (La virgen de los sicarios, The Virgin of the Hitment), which was both depressing and disturbing. And I can't even say that I didn't like the book, because it wasn't the book's fault. What I didn't like was knowing that the situation that the book describes still exists in Colombia; the drug trafficking and the casual disregard for human life and relationships, the world where someone will kill you for your nice sneakers that will probably get them killed sometime next week, and, what is perhaps the worst bit, a world where many people don't believe things can be different.
And while I knew about many of the problems in Colombia, there's a difference between knowing and reading a novel where you're immersed in that world.
I would say, "oh good, I've finished it," but I still need to watch the movie before class on Wednesday, and then we'll be discussing it for three classes.
And writing for the past two-three days has been like pulling teeth (okay, not quite that painful, actually. But slow and draggy and hard), although that finally got better today and perhaps now that Things Are Happening it will continue being better.
And homework (aside from death-crumpets) was major-time Not Happening; but the paper is short and isn't due until Tuesday evening.
I did get work done on my books on Friday, though. And people are coming over for paella tomorrow, which should be fun.
