sicky sicko

Well, I made it this far! After a month of no allergies, daily overeating, as little sleep as possible and days at a time on the run, I have landed myself in a sickbed. Except it's actually just my normal bed, and I'm sick in it.

I believe what I have is some form of the common cold. Aches. Tiredness. Congestion. Sore throat. Nothing I haven't had before, and definitely not as bad as it could be. The only problem is that my host mom doesn't seem to understand that I'm sick. As usual, I am just doing something that has never been done before. First, I ask for smaller portions because I say they are a little bigger than what I'm used to. I say I don't know how to work her laptop. I don't eat breakfasts on most Sundays. I am not a big fan of fish. I have never eaten the tongue of anything. I like to go to bed before midnight. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't receive things from a boyfriend. I have not made an effort to find a boyfriend here. I don't wear a scarf on the daily, even though it's February. And now, I've spent the afternoon in bed because I say I'm sick. I guess my feeble American-ness is going to beat down any chance of me becoming acceptable to Spanish culture. I guess I'm OK with that.

My conversation class teacher, who calls me "la Tejana" and is always making jokes about me being from Texas, (even though the only thing I have said about Texas was on the first day when she asked me where I was from and I said, "Texas.") assigned a 10-minute presentation to the class. The topic was open-ended for everyone except me. I have been assigned to talk about Texas. I am very OK with that.