Friday, February 19, 2016

Stranger than Paradise

Patricia, the woman who owns this house called me a "workaholic" yesterday, which would make anyone who knows me laugh out loud, but she can't understand why I would come to Cabo and work all day. I keep explaining to her that working here is in fact a vacation compared to working at home, that the shaded patio, warm breeze, and bright sunlight in her oasis-backyard is an amazing break from the gray winter in Seattle, and that being able to be here and work full-time (ish) is a fantastic benefit of the job I have.
On Wednesday, I did finally go into Cabo san Lucas, if only to placate Patricia, who I think was starting to wonder if I was agoraphobic. I lasted barely an hour in Cabo - I walked around the marina and the mall, had no interest in eating or drinking at any of the many restaurants and bars catering to the tourists, and was finally bored enough to catch the bus back up the highway. The bus, um, just happened to drop me off right in front of the taco stand, so there was really nothing left to do but order two and walk back to the house.
there's nothing in Cabo I want or need
Yesterday I worked all day, took a quick dip in the pool (Cabo is warm, the pool is not), did some reading, watched a couple of movies, made some awesome guacamole for my taco-stand taco dinner (the acquisition of which involves crossing a five-lane highway on foot; I've taken my life into my hands three times now for tacos), and went to bed.
the taco stand down the road and across the highway
hosts: Paola and the kitty; Patricia, and Pinky the dog