Home Alone

Life has been a tad harried at my place this week.  Travis is in South Africa (his company has taken an unaccountable dislike to our wedding anniversary – Travis has travelled for work twice since we got married, both times he's been away for our anniversary.  We haven't spent one together yet).  I'm still feeling crappy because of the mastitis.  Poor Petra's teething, so she's miserable and wants to be held a lot.  She's also decided that naps are for wusses and only babies go to bed before 10pm.  I'm having trouble finding the time to eat, drink, or sit down alone for a moment.  Anyone who has to be a single mum all the time has my sincere admiration – three days of it and I'm knackered. 

And on top of all that, we've had all kinds of people coming and going. 

Karla's mechanic came for our car on Tuesday night and gave it back last night, so I was carless yesterday.  He was supposed to pick it up on Tuesday morning but I didn't hear him knock or ring so I missed him.  I gave the keys and the parts the mechanic needed to the guard so that he and the mechanic could arrange things without me needing to answer the door.  It worked; the car vanished on Tuesday evening.  It reappeared last night – I only found it when I opened the door to the garage "just in case".  The mechanic came and went three times, twice with the car, and I didn't hear him at all.  I'm obviously not the most observant person in the world. 

Petra and I went driving this morning to test the repairs.  So far at least the car seems healthier – it's changing gear smoothly and not sticking in first gear the way it was.

Karla herself came by on Tuesday to play with Petra.  Petra had a fine old time clapping hands with Karla and riding on her shoulders.  I snuck off for a shower while they played – and it was about the best shower ever!

Our friend Diana, Spanish teacher and Real Estate Agent extraordinaire, has been by twice to show people our furniture and give me the first actual money we've received for any of our stuff, which was very exciting.  We have lots of verbal sale agreements, but no money or possessions had changed hands until yesterday.  Nothing seems quite real, therefore, and we worry about being left with stuff we don't want and can't ship.

And this morning the maid is here, testing the limits of my Spanish by offering to take off my hands anything I might care to give her.  As far as I could tell, she wasn't offering to buy, just to take away (llevar kept cropping up in the conversation).  Costa Ricans seem to have a keen eye for a bargain.  And of course we look rich enough in local terms (even though we're just ordinary old middle-class types in Canada or New Zealand) that they think we've probably got stuff and to spare.

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