A couple years ago I wrote a blog post about me being our family's disposal. When there is leftover food someone always asks, "Do you want this?" Some things never change, except this time I didn't know I was being the disposal.
After an outing we came back to our apartment to find water on the kitchen floor. It wasn't much but it was growing and obviously coming from the water dispenser. We contacted the landlord who said, "A boy I work with is coming to fix it or replace it. He will be there in less than an hour. Will you be there?" My first thought was, "This is not my problem. I'm going to dinner with my family." But in the end I agreed to wait for him.
Elaine and the kids, however, didn't want to wait and so I asked them to bring me back something. I specifically remember saying, "Just don't bring me back your leftovers."
The "boy" came, replaced the water dispenser, and cleaned up the water. Very shortly thereafter, Elaine and the kids came back with my food. It was great: a big plate of fried rice with chicken and shrimp, boiled new potatoes, and fried banana slices. It was all so yummy. I should have realized something was up when I found a shrimp tail in my fried rice. After eating it all and wishing for more, Elaine told me that the entire plate was made up of leftovers from the 3 meals they had bought for the 4 of them. In the end we all ate plenty from 3 plates of food and apparently I'm still the disposal even if I didn't know it.
Another funny part of the story is that during my conversation with the landlord I struggled mightily to communicate using what high school Spanish I could remember. Near the very end of this difficult (for me) conversation and after the important bits had been communicated the landlord started speaking in much better English than my Spanish. I wonder if she actually enjoyed hearing me struggle so badly with her language.
After an outing we came back to our apartment to find water on the kitchen floor. It wasn't much but it was growing and obviously coming from the water dispenser. We contacted the landlord who said, "A boy I work with is coming to fix it or replace it. He will be there in less than an hour. Will you be there?" My first thought was, "This is not my problem. I'm going to dinner with my family." But in the end I agreed to wait for him.
Elaine and the kids, however, didn't want to wait and so I asked them to bring me back something. I specifically remember saying, "Just don't bring me back your leftovers."
The "boy" came, replaced the water dispenser, and cleaned up the water. Very shortly thereafter, Elaine and the kids came back with my food. It was great: a big plate of fried rice with chicken and shrimp, boiled new potatoes, and fried banana slices. It was all so yummy. I should have realized something was up when I found a shrimp tail in my fried rice. After eating it all and wishing for more, Elaine told me that the entire plate was made up of leftovers from the 3 meals they had bought for the 4 of them. In the end we all ate plenty from 3 plates of food and apparently I'm still the disposal even if I didn't know it.
Another funny part of the story is that during my conversation with the landlord I struggled mightily to communicate using what high school Spanish I could remember. Near the very end of this difficult (for me) conversation and after the important bits had been communicated the landlord started speaking in much better English than my Spanish. I wonder if she actually enjoyed hearing me struggle so badly with her language.
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