Cerotto

Thankfully, our furniture finally arrived after its 3 month journey from St. Louis. Most things were intact. We did have to part ways with our dining room table due to an unfortunate mortal wound but neither of us were sad to see it go. The movers were very efficient and had all of our stuff in our house by 1pm on Friday. So we ate lunch and got to work moving stuff to appropriate places. At some point during the afternoon, Kwame decided that he needed to go to the hardware store for something tiny. I, of course, felt the need to continue moving boxes and unpacking while he was gone. In my over zealousness to be productive, I carried the box containing the high chair downstairs to store until we need it. Now for all of you people who think that I shouldn't be carrying boxes right now, rest assured that the box was not heavy, just awkward. I flew down the steps and made the turn to the back of the house. As I turned, the enormous support beam near the steps jumped out and hit me! Remember how I said that our house is kind of Brady Bunch meets Flintstones? Well, the pole definitely has the Flintstones look and is decorated with jagged stones. By the time I put the box down and looked at my hand, my finger was swollen and blood was dripping all over the place. Good thing we have all of our stuff because I can just pull out a band aid, right? Sure. . . Now the obvious solution is to call Kwame and ask him to pick up a box on his way home. Normally that would work except that in Italy, most people have prepaid phones and mine happened to be out of money (and Kwame's was sitting on the dining room table). So I washed off my hand, wrapped it in a paper towel, and decided that this was the perfect opportunity to practice all of the Italian I have been learning with my neighbors. I walked outside and started pushing buzzers. The first three people did not answer or were not home. I walked down the street a bit and hit the buzzer to another house. An ancient man answered his door - about 15 feet from the gate where I am standing - and I started yammering away in Italian. Of course, the only appropriate lingo I know for this situation is "Hello! My name is Christy. I am your neighbor. Band Aid (while pointing at my bloody finger." I get through all of this and the man shakes his head, waves one finger, and says, "Non c'e. Non c'e" (not here, not here) and slams his door! Did he think I was selling something? Did he think I was waving an inappropriate finger at him? By the way, it is pouring down rain at this point and I am still standing in the street. I go home, get my wallet, and walk to the store for some cerroti (band aids). I laughed the whole way back at my attempt. So much for meeting the neighbors!