Thursday, November 13, 2008

Bad American

I finally got a hold of my landlords and blindsided them by telling them I was moving out. I had written them a letter telling them the same thing, but apparently they choose not to read impassioned letters from annoyed Americans. So I'm moving tomorrow to live with another teacher at my school. I haven't paid rent this month and hopefully I will get some of my deposit back but I'm not holding my breath. Even if I don't I'm not going to be too mad, because I was kind of a jerk and broke my contract. Also the electricity bill hasn't come yet or the water, so I won't be paying either of those. In the end, I'll probably come out even. That's all that really matters, isn't it? Legally, they could come after me for the third months rent since I have a three month contract, but I'm not telling them where I live and I'll be gone in two and a half months back to USA (say 'oosa!'). I'll be sad to leave the best job I've ever had, but my kids are tired of the small town life and I miss my husband. My job is sooooo awesome! I basically get paid to talk to people in English. And I get 18$ an hour to do it. Plus if for some reason I'm away from work, like yesterday, I went to Antequera to try to get a residency card (rejected!) I still get paid. Or if I'm sick: I still get paid. Or if there's a holiday: I get paid, like the one coming up for Christmas, two weeks off: I get paid. Also at no cost or waiting period or full timedness whatsoever, I get health insurance. My job is better than any job ever, in fact, my sentiments can be adequately summed up in the following song by Mickey Avalon. Wherever he says, "My dick" substitute in your mind, "My job" and you'll understand perfectly, cause it's true, you're job does look like McCauley Kaulkin.

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