deti
It dawns on me this evening that two months from today, I'll be getting off the plane in Petersburg.
I have to write a letter to my home-stay hosts and I don't know who they will be. I don't know what to write and so I'm avoiding it and eating cheez-puffs on the couch. On the home-stay form, they asked me questions like do I prefer homes with or without children, and do I want to live in a smoking environment or a non-smoking environment. I put "no preference" for both but the truth is that I hate children and love smoking. I don't know why I didn't admit to these things, who cares about being agreeable? I've already been accepted. My dream host family consists of a dryly humorous but wise old widow with grown or no children who smokes like Baghdad and always has an arsenal of cheap wine. Oh the times we'd have, Svetlana and I, knitting socks and listening to the radio in her bare, Soviet-era apartment.
Whatever home I'm sent to, I'll be fine, it's just that children make me nervous because I don't know how to engage them at all and I'm not really interested, and it shows. I prefer to speak to children like they are adults, and not puppies and kittens, the result of which is that I bore them and appear creepy and aloof, which I suppose I am.
I have to write a letter to my home-stay hosts and I don't know who they will be. I don't know what to write and so I'm avoiding it and eating cheez-puffs on the couch. On the home-stay form, they asked me questions like do I prefer homes with or without children, and do I want to live in a smoking environment or a non-smoking environment. I put "no preference" for both but the truth is that I hate children and love smoking. I don't know why I didn't admit to these things, who cares about being agreeable? I've already been accepted. My dream host family consists of a dryly humorous but wise old widow with grown or no children who smokes like Baghdad and always has an arsenal of cheap wine. Oh the times we'd have, Svetlana and I, knitting socks and listening to the radio in her bare, Soviet-era apartment.
Whatever home I'm sent to, I'll be fine, it's just that children make me nervous because I don't know how to engage them at all and I'm not really interested, and it shows. I prefer to speak to children like they are adults, and not puppies and kittens, the result of which is that I bore them and appear creepy and aloof, which I suppose I am.