Third weekend in Sevilla: still in bed at 9pm on a Saturday night.
I am a party animal, that's for sure.
The real story: I'm sick. By the end of my first week here, it was obvious that I had been hit with something nasty. I lost my voice for two, almost three days, slept a lot, and ate lots and lots of instant soup.
Tonight, I'm watching Netflix and riding out a low grade fever with chocolate and Maria biscuits.
I can justify it - my first two weeks were action-packed, sick or not.
Every morning at 8:30 I would walk or catch the bus to the Giralda center, where I took 4 hours of Spanish lessons. These came in handy real quick; we learned all the vocab for being sick the day before most of my symptoms popped up. Talk about jinxing yourself.
At 1 pm when class ended, I walked into the city center to work for a small startup company in their client support department. I love my job; I'd like to make my official title "professional problem solver," please, because I am the queen of customer service.
The first day of work, however, I never actually made it there. I got about 3/4 of the way, made a wrong turn, and promptly got lost for about 3 hours.
I wouldn't have minded, except my supervisor had been expecting me to show up at the office at 1:30.
Around 5 o'clock, I finally found my way home to an email from work asking if something terrible had happened to me.... Nope, I just have a dysfunctional inner compass.
PS if anyone knows how to get blogger to not be in Spanish, send help. We did not cover blogging vocab in Spanish class.
