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HERE LIES TEN MINUTES OF MY TIME. |
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A lady sitting on the moon in the fridge I am living the High Life. OK, not exactly. I�ve got a pretty nice apartment, furnished, and 2 suitcases of clothing. I don�t have ankle braces (and the highest end mall in Nigeria doesn�t either). I don�t have simple power ties. I would like ankle braces. Then I could take advantage of the quality health care that I have. I have a doctor at the office! I can just walk in! I have a pharmacy! They gave me free band aids! But again, without ankle braces, I�m not doing the kind of things that might make me use the band aids. I�m also now in a business casual workplace! That is also a recent, temporary event. See, the consulate is undergoing construction because it is an oldish building. The AC has been iffy since I arrived, with a day of failure sprinkled in here and there. Well, it failed today, and it gets hot on the emotionally charged visa lines. And tomorrow I will be at my station on the line in one of my 3 biz/caz shirts, instead of one of my 4 dress shirts. Clothing is in heavy rotation, that is what I�m saying. Also: I saw a case of beer at the commissary. Cases� just don�t seem to be something that they do here. Lots of bottles, I�ve seen plenty of 40s in the stores� not the beer on tap/case of brewskies society. But I�m equipped with a case of the Champaign of Beers as I enter the holidays in this strange land. Short on shirts, shoes, familiar faces, and everything that used to be the usual, it felt pretty good putting those Millers in the fridge. They mean that I can actually be a host� have people over for beers. That is the start of establishing something different but familiar. That is my ticket back into the High Life. I�ll get there. |