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Life in Spain

It’s been nearly a week since the mailman has delivered any mail. Even though I work at home, I consistently get “We couldn’t deliver a package, because you weren’t home.” notices. The lady working at the post office lights up, and blows smoke in my face, sitting directly below a No-Smoking sign. My wife is given the finger for trying to cross at the intersection, when the crossing light is in green.

And yesterday, the band of cowboys hired by the neighbors to remodel their top-floor terrace (without any sort of permit, of course) went home in the afternoon and left the roof open and uncovered. Last night it rained cats and dogs, subsequently flooding all the apartments below.

Sigh. Such is life sometimes in Spain.

Published inLife

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