Thursday, May 7, 2015

Two Pools, Two Maids, Two Houses

When bags get packed, dogs tend to mope.

They don't like change -- even if that change is something you, the human, have been looking forward to. Maybe they think that since you're going somewhere, this is finally the time when they'll be hauled off to the pound, or to "the farm" where all bad dogs go. They sniff around the bags and look petulant. They lie around in nervous despair.
Petulance, usually.

We've only been here eight months, but somehow we've accumulated a montón of stuff for our dog to walk around and sniff disapprovingly. (I like that word, montón. It doesn't mean mountain, though -- it means "pile" or "a lot.") Little Yoders, our crabby white mutt, looks purely pissed when that pile suddenly includes the black duffel bag-carrier that brought him on this crazy Nica ride.

But it's not time to go on a plane again just yet. Nope, it's only time to bide our time in another house for two months, and for the next three days, to enjoy the fact that we're the proud managers of two pools, two maids, and two Nicaraguan houses.

But even when you look forward to something, there's always a sense of dread about it when the day arrives to actually make the move. A sense of not wanting to disrupt the balance, or to have to do anything more or less than what you're doing right now. We're moving because the owner of this house wants his place back -- and really, i am ready to stop living on a crazy corner where motorcycles and taxis blast their horns and trucks with unregulated exhaust make noise all day -- but there's always that feeling of not quite wanting to go.

So maybe today, i'm like all dogs on moving day.


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