My Body Is Falling Apart

It's a sad fact, but true. What I was looking forward to having happen to me in the future has come fifty years early. Europe has taken its toll on me and aged me severely. I am ailing.

*Disclaimer: If you don't want to pity me, don't read this. Also, some descriptions are maybe weird and kind of gross (but not really). If you have a problem with that, don't read this.

I blame the cobblestones for my first bout of problems. Though they appear quaint when you see them in pictures and in period films, they are uneven and difficult to walk on, even when in sneakers. It is for this reason that I believe they caused my knee-joint pain. This, combined with constantly walking up and down hills, something I have not had to do since I lived in Duluth, created for sharp pains shooting around under my kneecap like quick bolts of lightning with each step. Luckily, though, the pain passed and my knees feel as though they are back to normal. Or at least they have grown used to the irregularities that come with quaintness and adjusted accordingly.

My second ailment occurred a few weeks ago. After realizing that I "itched all over," I found red bumps on my legs that only appeared after I got home from class, though that had disappeared by morning. At first, it was shingles scare, though after Dad ran through the symptoms with me I realized it was possible. I eventually pinpointed the cause to be an allergic reaction to my new, comfortable-for-lounging sweatpants that have now become my new, useless-unless-I-want-to-itch-uncontrollably sweatpants.

My third ailment is along the lines of shoes. I came here with two pairs of sneakers, and within the first month of my time here, they both decided to fall apart. This left me with very little time to find a replacement pair of everyday shoes. What I found was a pair of teal Converse that fit me length-wise perfectly. In time, I realized that, despite fitting me in every other way, they squinched my baby toes in to the rest of my toes and rubbed against them so it felt like the skin was about to be rubbed off. To give my baby toes a break, I would switch to wearing my Aldo "Inca" (ankle) boots from New York. Good idea in theory, BUT I have worn them so much that I have worn them down so that when wearing them, I am almost stepping directly onto the ground. Therefore, by giving my baby toes a rest from the rubbing, I am instead forcing the skin to be rubbed off the bottoms of my feet. They receive no respite.

My final ailment is most disconcerting to my belief. Six months after having had my wisdom teeth removed, I eat a bagel chip at the wrong angle (this happened on Wednesday), and now, the empty gums where my wise tooth once laid has begun to swell. I have been eating cold things and waiting for it all to subside. Luckily aspirin halts the throbbing and I have high hopes that this will clear itself up, much as the joint pain and allergic reactions stopped themselves (the shoes will be an ongoing problem, I am sure, and I therefore have no hope that it will cure itself). Time will tell. All I can do is be happy that, while 1/4 of my mouth feels similar (though to a lesser extreme) to the way it did when I had my wisdom teeth out, I do not look like a chipmunk this time.

It's a wonder that I've survived this long.

Laundry

Tonight I am at home doing my homework and, obviously, blogging. Today a guy from the program turned 21 and is having a party at his apartment to celebrate. I asked him if he was going to go out and buy himself some alcohol today, to exercise his new-found alcohol rights. He said that he'd already bought alcohol while he was here, but today when he was buying alcohol was going to be better than all the others. I would have gone to the party. I would really like to be there right now, actually, but unfortunately, I am here, and I am exhausted.

This exhaustion mostly comes from my house being on a hill and my school being on a hill. This means that, no matter where I am going, I must always walk up a sizeable hill to get to my destination. Not only does this mean that I am tired when I get there, it also means that I am hot, sweaty, and have a distinctly European odor about me by the time I get to the top. This, coupled with the fact that I took a two hour walking tour of Prague Castle today (and factoring in that I'm in general a lazy bum), is why I am not helping the guy ring in a newer and better year at the pub by his apartment. I apologize.


There is one thing I regret not doing before leaving home: buying new underwear. I considered replenishing my supply--I even threw away some particularly old pairs, but I never replaced them. I realize now that I should have gone and loaded up on the Victoria's Secret 5 for $25 deal.

I did my laundry for the first time this whole trip a couple nights ago. They handle their laundry very differently here--Miroslav told me that when his wife gets back from "spa," she will want to do my laundry for me. This in itself will be a bit of a shock for me--Mom has had me doing my own laundry since I was thirteen. Seven years of me being the only one to touch my dirty laundry has made me particularly protective of it.

This, though, is not what has made me wish I had bought new underwear. Rather, it's the fact that I pretty sure there are no residences within the city that have a dryer. Instead of tumble dry low in the dryer, it's hang dry in the living room. For everyone to see.

This is something I would be completely fine with if I were one of those people who doesn't care about what other people think. But, I am not one of those people. I care that people are looking at my leggings, I care that people are looking at my dirty, holey socks, and I care that people are looking at my underwear and judging me for them. I'm sure they couldn't care less about whether or not my socks actually match, or that I have [some] granny panties (sometimes I prefer the extra room), but every time I walk past those clothes, it's all I can do to keep from judging myself, acting as a third party observer, and asking myself, "Who the hell is this person?" before I realize that I'm judging myself.

Of course, the only problem is not that my clothes are displayed for everyone--some kind of limited time exhibit. It's also the practical fact that those clothes are hard once you take them off. Any of you who have ever hung things over a drying rack to dry your clothes know that your clothes are incredibly stiff by the time they are dry.

This presents the problem of chafing.

I suppose I'll leave that to your imagination and say goodnight now.
Dobrou noc!