Do you know all those times that I was like, “yeah, mamma mia’s kind of a character, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been able to take it all without irritation”. Well, I found my Mamma Mia limit this morning.
To set the scene, I’m exhausted. Both Owen and I have been sick enough to not be getting more than a couple hours of sleep. On top of this, it’s been raining, and I haven’t stopped my rather insane habit of running up mountains and walking fifteen more miles in the same day. So that got me to tired. To hit exhausted, you have to add in our most recent trip to Rome. To be at the train station at 7 (such a lie, by the way, the train didn’t leave until 7:40, they were just trying to force us to be there on time- and still a couple people missed it because they were still out partying from the night before), Owen and I had to leave the house at 6. I woke up at 5:26 when Camilla came screaming across the house to fling herself down at the door. Somehow she hasn’t figured out that Owen isn’t a serial killer yet. Also, she’s less than a foot tall and is composed entirely of fat, so I’m pretty sure Owen could take her.
It was pouring rain outside so, in addition to taking my umbrella, I also cut arm and neck holes into a large trash bag and wore that to the station. (In case you’re wondering, yes, I am aware that my dressing abilities are degrading alarmingly fast. Really the only question left in my mind is how long it’s going to take me to start going in it nothing but the trash bag). On the positive side, I’ve now officially given Florence my blood, sweat and tears, which in my mind is an unofficial requirement for having lived anywhere. I hit it in Statia in about the first thirty seconds.
Both coming and returning to Florence, I hit what I like to call my ‘giggle meter’ in which I’m so exhausted/starved/disoriented that I start to laugh…and don’t typically stop until I’ve eaten/slept/gotten my life together. On the way to Rome Owen (and the rest of the train car) side-eyed me with mild concern. On the way home, Owen joined me, and we made a mild scene of ourselves, giggling more or less nonstop for the entirety of the trip home.
They pulled out all the stops for this Rome trip. We started with a tour of the Colosseum. (Unpopular opinion, the Colosseum is really freaking cool. It may be the coolest building ever built). As a general update for my life, I now plan to become a gladiator, so I’ll keep all of you posted on that. I wrestled Pauldino to the floor when I got home so (dusts off shoulders) I think I’ve got a promising future up ahead. From there we went into the Roman Forum and then to the Pantheon.
At lunch, Owen and I went off on our own – no we didn’t get drunk this time – we got pizza and gelato and walked to the Palatine Hill. We accidentally walked around the Tiber River too, which was on our list of things we wanted to do, but just not in that order. Also, this morning in my sleep-deprived state I thought I was such a cool and savvy traveler for only bringing 10 euros to Rome with me. Turns out I was so cool and savvy that Owen had to buy my lunch.
At the Palatine Hill, Owen and I split up. I met up with a friend from Whitman and we walked around the more modern part of the city for a while. We bumped into two of the leaders from my Rome trip while we were walking and they both gave me mildly concerned looks as they wondered whether or not they should do/say something about the fact that I’d traded Owen in for the tall black guy I was now wandering around the city with.
I got lost on the way to the train station, but it didn’t matter very much because they’d asked us to get to the station almost a full hour before our train was even going to consider arriving. Also, I really like Rome. It’s much more like New York City than Florence and, although I think it’s probably a good experience for me to live in a different style of place, I think I would also do really well in Rome. I like the size and the energy.
From the train station, Owen and I had to walk another 45 minutes to our house, where we ate dinner and then (I, at least) collapsed into bed. This gets me to this morning. I woke up around 11 and got out of bed, sore, tired, and with a large bruise forming on my forehead – that’s another story. Only vaguely conscious, I stumbled into the kitchen and started to eat breakfast. Donatella was already sitting there, with the TV on full blast. But the truly annoying part was Camilla. Camilla sits at Donatella’s feet and barks every time she wants a biscuit (spoiler alert: it’s always). Donatella goes “Ay, ay, ay, you fat dog. Grossa.” and then feeds her a biscuit, so the barking and Donatella’s shouted exclamations go in an infinite loop. Normally I have a better sense of humor about their interactions. (Enzo does not). But today I gazed into my cereal bowl and contemplated punting Camilla out into the hall.