At the end of this Seemingly Endless Day of Nonstop Bullshit, I would
like to acknowledge three random strangers whose miniscule acts of kindness somewhat mitigated my
desire to bash my head against a wall until I lost consciousness:
The young man at the Oxxo minimart who observed my
crestfallen expression when I realized that the coffee machine was being
serviced, said, “Just for you, ma’am” and hooked it back up, so I could get a
hit of liquid caffeine and sugar.
The man who took my picture for my immigration document, who
laughed heartily at my joke, and didn’t even raise his eyebrows when he saw my
terrible, terrible photo. *
The gas station attendant who filled up my flat tire and
called me “my little queen,” even though I didn't have any change with which to tip him.
Señores: gracias.
*Terrible, but fortunately not in accordance with the trend of increasing terribleness. The first year in Mexico, I looked ugly, but dignified, in my FM2 photo. The second year I looked like a man. Last year I looked like a sad zombie. This year, I figured I would end up looking like...what would be worse than zombie? Lindsay Lohan after a binge, maybe. Instead, I'm going to look tired and pissed, which is at least accurate.
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