To Add to the Millionaire List: Second Home in Spain

We're getting ready to go home, and I think I'm almost ready. I've pretty much blown off work this week, in favor of sucking up as much tasty Spain as possible. Now that I'm so comfortable finding my way around the city, it's lovely to just wander down the sunny streets, stopping for coffee or a snack or a new t-shirt with skulls on it (it's fantastic—looks like a nice floral pattern from four feet away), not really caring where I'm going.

But I'm really ready to be back in my own house, where I don't have to be on my best-house-guest behavior all the time, where I can leave hair in the bathtub and leave dishes in the sink and burp out loud (more often). Sounds nice, huh? Wanna come over? No? Maybe another time.

I can't wait to be surrounded by fluent English speakers, but I'm going to miss all the Spanish-learning that's been happening in my brain. I can almost feel the renovations, and it's really sped up over the last week or two. I wish I had a voice-recorder with me, so I could make transcripts of all this stuff that I know I'll be missing soon.