Monday, May 11, 2015

ITALY (happy mother's day, mammina!)
First of all screwed up my Mother's Day Sunday by forgetting to load il serale of my favorite reality talent show Amici. T was still in Madrid and we didn't find out until 9 AM that the 50 euros we spent to send her her passport was money well spent. F obviously would have slept in the doghouse had we had a dog or a house, but at the moment, for all intensive purposes, we have neither.

I did piece together the clips of the show. The opening challenge to see which team starts the competition made me really angry, too. In fact, I think both singers Emma and Elisa should go on strike. That would show those backwards thinking morons who's boss. They made them have an ironing competition. If that wasn't bad enough, they had to iron these male dancers' pants and shirts. Some old, white, American guy, sports journalist named Peterson was the judge.
As I type this I can hear the Albanian construction men are on the other side of the wall scraping away. Maybe they are on the roof over my head. It feels like I could reach out and touch them.  To amuse myself, I am alone in the house, I keep yelling out complaints in Italian about how they are ruining my life. I will have to suffer in this place for a while longer because when we went to go sign the new rental contract today, a document was missing. WELCOME TO ITALY. They passed a new law and now we have to wait and see if they can prepare the energy agreement for tomorrow night. In the meantime, F will go rent a moving van for Wednesday and try to sort out the internet connection for the new house. The new landlord was very sweet, though, and we will be lucky to have him.

At least I wasn't in Emma's shoes, when two of her team members pretended to have hurt themselves playing soccer in the backyard. One wore a fake neck brace and the other a cast on his foot. At a certain point during the prank which she fell for hook, line, and sinker, they just break out dancing.

I know how you feel, Emma.

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