Plastic Flowers and Laundry

Cities full of hatred, fear and lies
Withered hearts and cruel, tormented eyes
Scheming demons dressed in kingly guise Beating down the multitude and
Scoffing at the wise
Can 't we raise our eyes and make a start? Can't we find the minds to lead us
Closer to the heart?
-Rush

(The Goat of Prophecy in Burgohondo)

In the past month, I have experienced two very intimate moments with laundry. This may sound like the ravings of a madman, but what else is new? The first was when i left some dirty laundry in a bag at the Seester's. “I'll do it for you so that it doesn't reek when you get back.”

Unnecessary, but very sweet. You see, for the past few years or so, I haven't lived with someone who really cared about helping me. I'm not advocating that women should be reduced to doing my laundry, but that fact that someone wants to do it, just to help you out a little, well... this is something special.

The second incident was coming home from the Metro yesterday. Maria said she'd run a load of laundry for me when she came home at lunch (i was out of boxers!). I said i could just hang them when i got home as laundry often takes 2 hours for a cycle here (why i don't know). I came to the door of her flat and saw the red and white stripes of an Athletico Madrid jersey blowing in the wind. Nice, I thought. Then I saw a DC United shirt and thought, that's my stuff! She had hung my clothes for me. It was so sweet, that someone just wanted to do that for me.

So how do I return the favor? I have been trying to buy this woman flowers for weeks, but i can never fucking find them. So last Saturday, out of desperation, I bought her purple plastic flowers from the Chino. She laughed her ass off. Guiness, the kitten, ate one.

Welcome to modern love, Madrid style.

She said son, “well you know you're an ugly boy
you don't really look like him.
In this long line there's been some real strange genes
you've got 'em all, you've got'em all, with some extras thrown in!”
-the Who

Adventures by Metro
Getafe is a burb to the south of Madrid, still part of Madrid. The commute to work for 8am is a bitch. Today I thought i was being all clever getting off of the bus early and take Linea 6, the circular line. But things are marked like shit here, and I went around the opposite way and there was no way to change lines that made sense. Ugh!!!!!I showed up 20 minutes late for class, exasperated and disheveled. My students were cool about it (Antonio loves Rush – woo hoo!).

More
I know there's more I want to tell you, just can't think of it right now. It's 16:17 and I am on the Metro – I teach the kids at 6, Isidro at 7 and then sign the contract for my flat and hopefully get the keys (llaves!). Much thanks to Mum, who gave me a sizeable loan to cover my deposit and pay off my credit card debt while my assets are frozen like i was fucking Bin Laden or something! Thanks Mum!