Frustration, patience, and a shortened life

Frustration might be understating my current mood. Lets just say I have threatened to get on an airplane and fly home no less than 40 times today. Last Thursday we were told our house would be available and we could get the keys the following day. We were also told that the house was fully furnished (wait, we have a truckload of furniture that is supposed to be here already). Naturally, I started packing up the apartment.
*Friday-Sorry, the keys will come tomorrow and oops, it's not furnished. Oh and by the way, the furniture is still in Guatemala. (Keep in mind they have had over a month to get the furniture to Honduras) Breathe Lisa, Breathe.
*Saturday-We actually get the keys. Furniture leaves Guatemala City and if everything goes well it should be here on
*Monday. Monday-Furniture gets through customs and should arrive that evening. This is truly a miracle.
*Tuesday-Moving Day! Oh wait, apparently they have to go to another customs office in the city to pay some fee. (Apparently when they go through customs they push a button and if the light turns green they get to pass, if it turns red they have to search everything.) They get a red light and spend several hours searching but it should still arrive this evening.
*Wednesday-Moving Day! What? Are you kidding me? The truck's gas cap was stolen so it is still sitting at customs. How hard can it be to get a new gas cap!? Hours of waiting and frustration...still no furniture.
*Thursday-Moving Day! It remains to be seen, I have my doubts.


One would think that a three-year-old would be a sufficient instrument for teaching a woman patience but now I get Honduras as well. Apparently everything here is relaxed and happens when it happens. They will say that someone is coming on Tuesday to install the Internet, but they mean that someone will come sometime in the next two weeks. I will either return to the U.S. a very patient woman or a very wrinkly, gray-haired cynical woman. The jury is still out.



Although I am slightly embarassed to admit this, back in the U.S. I took Caden to McDonalds(or Dick Donalds as he calls it) on more than a few occassions. However, I never let him get french fries. It was always apples and chocolate milk. Here in Honduras there is no healthy option. All of my hard work has been erased. The only choice here is french fries and soda.(luckily they hate soda) Because we have been living in limbo for the past few days we have consumed a ridiculous amount of french fries and other unhealthy junk. I am beginning to think I will have a heart attack before this furniture is ever delivered to my house.


I apologize for the rant but that was very therapeautic.