Un Dia Malisimo

Today was the day I was glad to be coming home in under one month. I woke up with one killer headache and general body ache. I made myself one stellar breakfast for an easy-over egg with tomatoes and toast. Too bad everything tastes like olive oil. My tastebuds were not down. They are just so over my failed Spanish cooking.

When half of my program fees go to a senora (who I tend to rave about all the time), why was I cooking for myself, wearing the same pajama shorts I’ve been in for a week? Oh, right. She has been gone for nine days. And nine days too long. While I have lived on my own for the last two years, I have regressed to kindergarten status. This woman does my laundry, makes my bed, and packs me lunch for long school days. Even though I insist that I can do it all myself, I’m starting to doubt it. She is a fairy godmother. Who went on vacation to the Mediteranean beaches of Alicante. And left me alone to starve in filth.

Clearly, I am exaggerating since she left a full fridge of food (mysteriously all gone. Fingers pointing at 34-year-old son) and someone came to the house and organized my make-up and put away my shoes twice in the last week.

Today, on the tenth day, I broke down. My mouth could not handle the olivey slippery egg taste. My tush did not want to wear those stupid plaid pajama shorts. And I could not handle one more episode of “Dieciseis y Embarazada” to watch while at the dinner table alone again.

I just gave up when I went to make some frozen pizza (Spanish delicacy) and found a true horror in the kitchen. An INFESTACION DE HORMIGAS. Hundreds of tiny black ants running all over the walls and countertops. Where did they come from? How can I mercilessly murder them all? Why are they here? Are they baking into my pizza? I feel so itchy! Ah! Meltdown mode! Madre!

I just went in and performed my fourth antquisition of the evening. I am now scratching and slapping myself silly in psychosis of little black beasts crawling all over me.

Thank goodness I just heard the gate open. They are home. Glory.


(Post-writing note: I just attacked these two senior citizens I call my padres with so much excitement and joy, I can't even begin to tell you. (Well, I just began...). Ana instantly killed the ants with a spray. Far more effective than my wet paper towel method. She is already rectifying my life. I love them so much.)