Seeing as I slept four hours the previous night and had class the following day, Sunday was low-key to the extreme. While I did have aspirations to run and go out to dinner as promised with a new friend, my bedroom and Netflix account were just too insistent I stay.
Best discovery of the day: Netflix has different licensing agreements in the UK. I thought this was going to mean an even more scarce and obscure selection than the one you find in America (really, Netflix, where do you find some of these titles?), but, on the contrary, I was pleased to find a much wider variety of movies with a much more notable title list over here.
I am sorely lacking a Grey’s Anatomy fix for a few months, but I do have access to many adorable British comedies in addition to some American favorites. I also have titles such as When in Rome, The Princess Bride, and 10 Things I Hate About You. “AS YOU WISH!” the British Netflix tells me. Oh yes. If you don’t get this reference, you should probably stop reading my blog now. We’re just not going to be friends.
After settling on the feel-good Prince and Me series for the afternoon, I apologized to my dinner companion and rescheduled our night out, and I hid my sadly neglected running shoes under my bed. Sometimes you just need an afternoon in bed with some movies you loved at fourteen.
Sandra made quite the arrangement for dinner – tomato and cucumber salad, hummus and pita, falafel, and cheese pizza. It was absolutely fantastic, and the fact it was my first meal after the 20 pence Spaghettio incident made it that much better.
Sandra and I spoke about all the students she’s had over the years as she showed me a book full of their departure notes. I couldn’t believe it, but I am the first American she’s had in twenty years! The book was full of notes in broken English, and I read through it as Sandra told me about her favorites, her not-so-favorites, and the students who just needed to go.
One account had her remembering a girl who refused to put her underwear in the washing machine. She washed them out in the sink and hung them to dry in her room, but she let them drip all over the hardwood floors. Sandra asked her repeatedly to wring them out better or to just put them in the machine, “but she still stood at the bathroom sink washing out her bloody underwear!” I couldn’t tell if this meant “bloody” as in “freakin underwear” or “bloody” as in this student needed to reconsider her feminine products… I’m such an American.
My parents had been away for the long weekend to celebrate my step-father’s birthday, so I finally got to Skype them Sunday evening after they’d returned from the big trip. While I Facebook message my mom from London more than I would if I were at Ursinus this semester, there really is a hole in my heart for America.
I miss casually calling my mommy to say hello. I miss calling my step-father and chatting about my latest paper assignment. I miss visiting my big sister and my munchkins on a daily basis and eating cheesy ranch bread and stuffed shells with them. I still haven’t been able to talk with my dad, given his lack of inclination to all things technology, and I so very much wish I could just call him and tell him about the socialists I met the other day and the way the government interferes in land allotments here. I wish I could hug an amazing friend who’s having a hard time and sit down to a meal with another who’s feeling a bit lonely. I wish I could be in twenty places at once! And for world peace, of course.
While I am having the time of my life and I never want to leave this magical place, I am thinking of you silly Americans often. I love you and I miss you with all my heart. I’m working on finding a way to get super rich and bring you all over here for forever. Cross your fingers for me.