There's sun today, so SMILE!!!

It’s so easy to make a laundry list of complaints about Uganda, but in efforts to feng shui my soul and to find zen, I’m looking at the brighter sides of things (at least I am today).

My hair is growing (thank goodness). Remind me the next time I jet off to a country where running water may not be readily available, NOT to cut my hair, no matter how much easier I think it will be to manage. Remind me of depression and sorrow and the inability hairs like a dog that could be used to sew a new shirt with. I shaved my legs with deep concentration for the first time in a month. Last time I tried to shave, I did it in the dark and let’s just say I did a horrible job. This time, I actually had light and opened a new razor. I’ve been thinking about waxing. I tried getting my eyebrows waxed once. My facial skin was NOT having that one. I’ll never be doing that again. I am a big fan of the Brazilian, but I’ve never tried to get my armpits waxed. Thoughts? I think this would hurt more than the Brazilian!

Mefloquine. I wouldn’t give this drug up even if you tried to convince me to. I love the dreams, I hate the dreams. It’s like a grab bag of really bizarre and really messed up. There was the rape dream (I guess this would be a nightmare), the running a race carrying a watermelon dream, the friend hates me dream (still have no idea why K was screaming at me in my dream), the OMG there’s a giant spider crawling on me dream (didn’t wake up too happy with that one), and the ex dreams (those usually range from pretty normal to extremely messed up).

I’m pretty sure I have some crazy tropical disease or some bug keeps biting me because I keep getting these itchy bumps in random spots. Not mosquito bites, but just weird bumps that itch. I’m just waiting for the day one of these bumps gets itched open and a maggot crawls out (yes this is in reference to the maggot from 2 years ago that was dug out of someone’s shoulder). Either that or I’m getting some mutant form of the chicken pox.

Jessica vs. Bob the Frog (Details)

When I say I did a little screaming/shrieking/talking to Bob, it went something more like this (with a touch of whining):

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM? Ok… I really would prefer not to crush your guts all over the carpet. So get the F*** out! NONONONO don’t go over there! Where did you go, Bob? WHERE THE F*** DID YOU GO?! Oh crap I lost him. Now what do I do? Ughhh I hate nature! Maybe I should keep him… he probably eats bugs. But what if he jumps onto my bed net in the middle of the night?! Or worse, what if I mess up the net and he jumps on ME? Ew. Ok, BOB, GET OUT! Move move move! Why won’t you move? I don’t want to touch you. AHHHH don’t jump on me! GET THE F*** out! Ugh where’s a stork when you need it to eat frogs. OUT OUT OUT. GET OUT! Ew I’m getting frog-ness all over my spatula. Gross. AHHH GET OUT. DON’T JUMP IN MY PURSE! Ew. Out Out Out. Oh phew… you’re out the door. BYE!”

In other words, if there had been someone standing outside my room or if the guard understood more English, it would have been fairly embarrassing. If it had been a spider or a large bug, at least I would have crushed it. But it was cute Bob… so what else could I do but scream and shoo?

An update on the bathroom situation: I’m getting much better at using pit latrines. By the time I leave, I’ll be a pro.