Well, I think I can safely say that I've reached critical mass with regards to all things grammatical and Españical. I've spent the majority of the day studying for tomorrow's exam, with a brief nap for recreational purposes, and am now ready to shift gears and spew forth a great quantity of things that I've been meaning to write about for the last week or so. This includes a conspicuous absence of sinus-related news.
Time, compulsive entity that she is, seems to have decided that even though Salamanca is great, there's got to be something far better "just over there." I can't see whatever it is, but that might be due to the dust storm kicked up by her rapidly shrinking figure as it disappears into the distance. Routine is carrying me along at terrifying speeds towards the 1st of February, marking my 6th month since this whole shin-dig kicked off. Half a year has passed and the Caledonian backpacker's hostel seems miles and moments away. I'm starting to feel a little frantic. I'm fairly sure it's a good sort of frantic, but it's unnerving all the same.
All through today we've had various international students coming to peer cautiously into my room, making me realize that it will be vacant as of this time next week. All too soon I must leave the land of the convenient washing machine and the language that I can now, surprisingly, understand almost all of -- but the exchange is acceptable. Certainly dangerous, as I've been informed that Florence is the stationary capitol of the world, but worth it. After all, why did I get a job if not to squander my paycheck on vast quantities of envelopes and sealing wax and writing paper and leather-bound instruments of journalry?
And speaking of envelopes and writing paper: I am happy to report that I can now bite my thumb triumphantly at anyone who claims letter writing to be a lost art. Today marks the 6th consecutive day I've received something by post. Last Tuesday, an epic installment of 13 pages (+ copious amounts of assorted photographs, newspaper clippings, and unusual tidbits) from my father. Wednesday, my beloved flip flops -- much open-toe-related rejoycing. Thursday, a holographic postcard from my best friend. Friday, a full letter from said friend. Saturday, a postcard from Ojai. (Skip Sunday. It has no significance in my life as a) I'm not particularly religious and, more importantly, b) there is no post) Finally, today, which brought a delicious four-page missive from Australia. There are even hypothetical letters and postcards which I know are working their way over here at this very moment from around the globe, so chances are good there will be something tomorrow as well. Apart from severely freaking out/impressing my flatmates, the whole experience is highly satisfying. Congratulations to all are in order.
Unfortunately, as I've been limited by studying and other things, stamp-buying hasn't happened. However, tomorrow, post-exam, in the heady and delirious world of academic freedom, I'll be able to get away from my books, hand over some money, receive some small bits of paper, judiciously apply some saliva, and have all 18 postcards shoved into the nearest mailbox before you can say "rapscallions and ruffians!" So stand by for that.
There is, of course, much more to be said, but it will have to wait because I'm being kicked off the computer by Angela who, understandably, would like to get some sleep and therefore needs me out of her room. So mañana, chicos, we'll carry on the tirade.
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