Den of Sin
I’m living with a Columbian prostitute. According to the other girls in my new (and likely temporary) apartment. And not only is she a prostitute, but she’s completely crazy and faked a heart attack the other day (but said she couldn’t go to the hospital because she was illegal). What?! My other apartment might have lacked the Internet, but at least it wasn’t a den of sin. So after packing all my things today, paying for a cab and a few nights in this place, I think it might be worth it to return to my old place. Oriana said she’d put off the apartment renovations and let me stay.
But let’s get back to the cab I took for a second. Other friends have had the director of our school arrange cabs for them when they were going to the airport or moving. I made the mistake of asking the secretaries for help—who offered none! Aside from a number for a taxi. So this morning I had to call and schedule a cab for myself. I was really panicked about this, but it worked out fine. I had never been so proud in my life.