(Otra vez, están recibiendo partes de mi cartas que envié a Marissa. Lo siento. I’m feeling lazy today.)
I wish with all of my little heart that I was keeping a better diary. Because I’m not. I get home and desires to actually do things other than sleep are nonexistent. It’s not there. Detailed journaling should be my goal for my last nine months. If I miraculously find a huge boost of will power, I’ll start on that. (But let us be realistic, my friend.)
I’ve also started running. Granted, I have neither beach nor great air, but I’ve somehow been waking up at 6:15 in the morning and running about in a dilapidated park outside my house for various days in a row, so I think all should be highly, highly impressed. My companion is a bit obsessed about losing weight, because we’ve gotten really good at gaining weight.
Speaking of companions. We had a bit of a spat. We’re going on our third exchange together. That’s roughly five months. We’re mostly good, but she’s. . . let us say OCD in regards of cleanliness. I accept that I’m not generally an expert in hyperclenliness, but I swear I’ve gotten tons better. Regardless, sometimes she has mini-melt downs. But worry not. We have our bad moments, but mostly we’re good.
It also turns out that my witty Peruvian turns out to be a bit of a crazy, witty Peruvian. I’m not quite clear on how crazy she is yet, because I have learning gaps in my Spanish, and swear words just aren’t part of my daily vocabulary. I sort of forgot that swear words existed for these last months, and this week I remembered that they were a thing. Anyways, let’s just say that sometimes she makes a bit of a ruckus in our class of Gospel Principles this Sunday. I had the strangest urge to study swear words all day yesterday. . .
We also discovered our convert binge drinking. All day long, she drank and drank and drank. We were a bit crushed, but understood that new converts often have relapses in regards of the word of wisdom. What really got us was when her three year old son ran up to us in the street bragging about how he’d been smoking. And we were like, ‘Well. Children smoking in the streets.’ We were a bit bummed. We told Elder Gatoa about this catastrophe, and he laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, she’s celebrating her 2 months in the church.’ Hardly, har.
I wish I was there to have helped you move. I know how hard it is. How detestable it is. I’m glad you like the house. It’s lovely, no?
I’ve felt insufferably tired this week. Probably a direct result of running all week. I think if I keep it up, the exhaustion will go away, but goodness I’m tired. Nine months of this teaching thing and one gets tired. I have days where I just want to be buried in blankets and beds and never surface. But I don’t, because that’s not the way of things here.
I think the cure would be a mom hug.
Hey, by the way, I know you haven’t sent my package yet, because I know how things work in our house, but that’s okay because I’ve thought of things I need.
- New garments would be nice.
- There are those ballerina socks that I bought at Wal-Mart. They don’t sell them here, and the superficial part of me that doesn’t like smelly feet needs them.
- Licorice. Please send me licorice. I need it in my life.
- Anything else you´re willing to send. Love you all, chao