Life is a romance novel
There are so many things to talk about. My broken heart, for one. But that’s my fault, I knew the risk involved when I opened the book. Your emotions will be battered and tangled up and still you think every time, “No, that Handsome Rake doesn’t intrigue me" and WOAH! he saves you from a band of mercenary pirates. Or “No, those Rowdy Cowboys wouldn’t bother this town" and WHOOSH! you’re whisked away. I tell you, life couldn’t be much more exciting than a romance novel. I mean, other than shopping and pretending to be a housewife, running errands for my mother, making dinner and cleaning, El Paso has been pretty peaceful. This is what I thought before my father called me at 9AM to say some “workers" would come over. What work do we need workers for? Then I remember, the porch!
First, let me tell you the story of the porch.
As I was “studying abroad" at Trinity (this is a phrase my family uses to state their displeasure at my choosing to leave El Paso), my mother became an exercise nut. She may have been inspired by the Gladiator show or all the football my brother watches, we’ll never know. Anyways, she has a treadmill and wakes up early to run on it. One Sunday she also saw an ad with her treadmill placed beside an elliptical machine and decided this would be even more perfect—she’d be prepared in no time for a triathlon. Before running speedily for 5 miles to acquire this new machine she realized that she had no space for it. We were relieved and thought we would be spared her lectures on exercise and the healthy heart, but then she discovered the porch. It’s hardly noticeable, but it too was judged perfect. In my mother’s eyes, it had already become a mini-gym. Thus, my father rustled up some “workers" to close in the porch.
This availability of “workers" has never ceased to amaze me. They never have any business cards, never seem to have any equipment, never speak English and yet, know how to do everything.
So, six of them were going to show up. My dad calls to tell me this when I’m in pajamas with wild hair so it’s no wonder the adrenaline was flowing. I rushed to get dressed and cleaned the house like a mad woman so it would be ready for measurements. I just didn’t know the “workers" would be so young. They were my age, I swear I went to high school with one of them and let me just say that I am glad I have been studying Spanish. They only knew “Hello" and “Thank you." I was still leery of them so I stayed in the kitchen, close to the heavy pans—which I was pretending to wash. When they finally left, I noticed that they all had arrived in one truck and there was a seventh guy driving, that hadn’t come in. How did they fit? Maybe I’ll get a chance to work that one out tomorrow when they come again. I’ve never known the “workers" to start a project so quickly, but I bet I know the reason.
It’s this new hair. It’s insanely attractive. I had my hair cut the shortest it’s ever been in my life. I had 36in of hair before I went to the salon. Now it’s a little past my shoulders and it’s so bouncy! How exciting! I don’t have to wake up with a headache from having the hair pull at me all night. I don’t know why I never did this sooner; it’s going to be so much easier to take care of. I promise to post pictures as soon as I get back to my own computer. But first, I need to pack…
