My ipod has died. I am forced to sing to myself, and surrounding onlookers by proxy. At the gym, I have no music besides the sometimes good, sometimes weird crap they play, or VH1-Europe. This is not a good situation. Especially for the innocent, unsuspecting victims subjected to the melodious strains of noise that emerge from my mouth when I try that ages-old discipline of singing.
Anyone want to contribute to the buy-Mika-an-ipod-even-though-she-should-be-a-leeeetle-more-concerned-about-how-she’s-going-to-pay-rent-because-she-hasn’t-been-paid-for-2.5-months fund? Anyone? hm.
Finished at the old job yesterday, starting the new one on Sunday. I’m really excited, nervous, and unsure of what to expect. I guess we’ll see. In the meantime, I found my new favorite pub, where I have decided to become a local. Of course, in a not-that-big and not-that-flat town like Jerusalem, I have to pick the FARTHEST one from my house, one that has a nice downhill walk on the way there but the longest uphill in the world on the way home. It is impossible to complete without stopping for a rest and the best chips (french fries for you foreigners) ever. It will be interesting to see how this works out for me.
And to mommy dearest and everyone else worried about my safety out here in the wild wild Middle East, fear not. The mail is being carefully monitored, as evidenced by my need to call the main mail center of Israel and verify that in fact, the person sending me a package (my mom) was indeed who they said they were. Since this is the fourth? third? fifth? package I’ve received from her (yay Mom you’re the best!). A tad Big Brother-ish, especially since when I called they just asked me for the ID number of the letter and my name, and if I know the person sending me the package. I don’t know about you, but that seems a bit more nosy aunt than national security enforcement. I’m surprised they didn’t ask me what was in the package and if there was anything sweet, if they could have just a little.
Hey Dad, have I mentioned that I love drinking your coffee every morning? The best coffee ever, with the added flavors of love and home. It’s a link to family and my roots that bring it much more meaning than other good coffees that I have found around here.
Now, if only I could get paid…
what a wonderful woooooooooooooorld