I've been in Houston nearly an entire month now... can that seriously be right?
Lots of work and little play.
I love my job, don't get me wrong. But it's stressful and hard hard hard work.
12 hours a day, 6 days a week.
It also forces me to wear the most heinous khakis in the Western hemisphere.
it allows me to meet new people every day and have experiences I wouldn't have.
Like these favorites:
* taught the two step by a lady with a broken foot
* asked out three times by men over 25
* chatted about Botero and Van Gogh with a Colombian artist
* set up on a blind date
* given a self-defense lesson by a deformed woman
* invited to stay for dinner
* cried with a soldier's mother
* chased a block by a chihuahua
* discussed religion with a pentecostal
* was invited to a strip club
* gawked at a little girl's spider collection
* welcomed to a Mexican family bbq
* put together a hamster cage palace
* asked if I deal drugs
After the first few weeks I stopped keeping a list.
I love....people. I love them. And I didn't realize it until I came out here.
and working hard.
For that, I'm grateful.