Home

I’m home.

I know this because I am writing this post from a brand-new Mac, and because:

  • There are no sups who chatter loudly outside my room beginning at 5:30 am
  • My cell phone no longer resembles a toy phone, and it no longer has stickers on the back.
  • No one calls me to detail their diarreah
  • I am not at all concerned about how the guys from Bombas y Motores are going to be paid for the Bevil grant project in San Geronimo
  • we just had Indian take-out for dinner. And it was so good.
  • I’m wearing a sweater.
  • its night-time, and I don’t feel the need to cover my legs with leggings and feet with socks so I don’t get bitten
  • Maribel has not called me in six hours. This is a record for the last few months, and a reality for the next few.
  • When I pee, I can throw the toilet paper in the toilet. Yet, I still hesitate, looking for the trash.
  • No vols are calling asking me to send them DVDs, fix their MovieMaker, or trouble shoot their Flip Cams.
  • No Youth Counterparts are calling asking me to let them bring extra people to such and such event.
  • No sups are calling asking about sending vols to buy materials to X community.
  • No Plan people are calling asking how many juices to order for that upcoming meeting.
  • No Amigos On-Call is calling asking for updated medical reports.
  • No host moms are calling to report their vol ate lunch.
  • No sups are calling to ask me about flea bites, mosquito bites, swollen bites, scabies bites, and other kinds of bites.
  • No Doc is calling to tell me the weekly bill.
  • Generally, no one is calling.
  • There are baby carrots, sweet bell peppers, snap pees, heirloom tomatoes, and cherries in the fridge.
  • There is an assortment of meats in the freezer, gourmet cheese in the fridge door, and leftover Indian from dinner.
  • Sammy is playing music in his study, and I feel like watching Law and Order, or CSI.

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