Every Tuesday I get home around noon, make a cup of tea if it's cold enough, think about studying French, decide not to study French and read the newspaper with Abuelita or dick around on the internet instead. Normally Maite is bustling around, peeling potatoes, stoking fireplaces, humming and basically being Molly Weasley. But today I got home and she was fuming. Being extremely astute, I of course did not notice this and instead asked the exact wrong question, which was "Where's the dog?" Referring to her daughter's dachshund, who we are babysitting this week. "THAT DOG IS BEING PUNISHED!" was her response and I almost dropped my cup of tea, I don't think I had ever heard Maite speak in a raised voice. She then explained that Pioja had climbed up on the counter and somehow got on the stove where the leftover steak and our entire lunch was sitting in a huge pot, waiting to be cooked. She knocked over the pot (this is the biggest pot I've ever seen and can probably fit three dachshunds, if we ever wanted to cook them) and ate all the steak that Maite was planning on serving four grown people, three of whom are Chilean. The whole meal probably weighed more than she did.
My first instinct was to laugh (wrong) but for the sake of the look on Maite's face, I didn't. I have never ever been happy about wasted food, especially steak. But now we're having a big pile of veggies for lunch instead, and after three days of steak and rice, I could not be happier. I imagine Lalo (host dad) will have a fit, he hates vegetables.
P.S. Look at this:
There's no way to explain this house other than it must be the place where everyone puts their dead appliances to rust together.
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