Crap

Sunday, September 15, 5:30pm

Warning: This post contains the word "crap" 20 times, including the title. Content might not be suitable for young children. 

I've felt like crap the past couple days. Literally. I stepped in dog crap on Friday. It got all up in between my toes and Angelica had to help me scrub my feet. It's pretty normal to step in crap though, because the street dogs are always crapping where ever they get the urge. As much as it sucks to step in crap, I gotta admit it is pretty funny to watch a dog relieving himself in the middle of the street when the bus is barreling up the road. They get this look of utter and complete terror like, Oh CRAP, how am I going to finish this before I get ran over!?! But I digress. 

It's been raining a lot. The news said it rained for 72 hours straight. It's horrible weather for clothes and shoes and cute purses you brought from the US. I was doing some spring cleaning because I'll be leaving for my site in a few weeks, and why not clear up some of the crap that's all over my room? Well, I should've started cleaning weeks ago because I found my cute US purse covered in white fuzzy crap. The white fuzzy crap? It's mold. Thick, musty, mold. 

So much mold. It had its own ecosystem. 

I got nervous and took out everything I own. I have some bras and a pair of flats that have succumbed to the white fuzzy crap. Just to be safe, I took out my fancy button downs and dress pants so I could wash them. My host mom can't sit still, so she took my clothes and started soaking them in the big bucket. Ya know, the one you keep your beans in and wash your underwear.

I showed my host mom my purse and asked her what's the best way to clean mold. No problem, she said. I'll clean it for you, she said. 

She sticks my purse with all the white fuzzy crap in the big bucket with the nicest clothes I own. Splashes it around. Gets it all in there. With my clothes... My nice, fancy clothes... 

Crap. 

I've also had a bout of stomach troubles resulting in a lot of crap. It's really a dangerous game of Russian roulette whenever my stomach starts to rumble. I feel like the dogs in the street, except I'm trying not to crap and the bus that's coming for me is an explosive stomach. 

I've been laying in my bed for a few hours, as comfortable as can be on my stiff foam mattress. I'm stick of getting up every 45 minutes or so. But, honestly,  the alternative would be to crap my pants, and I'm not about to let that happen. PCVs always say: it's not if you crap your pants during your service, but when. Not today, Peace Corps Gods! Not today. 

My host mom won't take no for a answer when she brings out the atol. Now call me crazy but when you're already experiencing liquid stomach troubles it seems like a bad idea to be drinking liquified corn. I sip it anyways, because I need to "warm up my stomach." It's gross, lukewarm, and has corn skin swimming in it. I hate this crap. 

Ew.

To top it all off, I watched my bootlegged P.S. I Love You DVD in between latrine runs. I just cried the whole time and got really homesick. I want to be sick my way, and sit alone for hours on end watching movies and drinking Gatorade. I don't want atol and I don't want faulty medical advice and I don't want to have to justify needing my space! The cultural chokehold is starting to get to me, I think. But it's all part of the process, right? People don't do PC because they want to be comfortable. 

Sometimes you're just gonna feel like crap.