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My computer decided it hates me on Monday. The charger finally gave up – waved a white flag of broken plastic and refused to function. No green light, nevermind orange, no matter how hard I persuaded it, and as my computer dropped down under ten percent, I tried to finish a blog, but I just didn’t make it before the screen went black. The next day I went into the Apple store and paid a ridiculous amount for a new charger, came home, and then I found the port on my Macbook was another issue – pushed into the computer itself. After having a mini panic attack, Rami, my incredible, wonderful, amazing husband that I don’t mention enough in here, took apart the laptop, moved the port into place, and my new charger gleaned a bright green that meant I was saved from the peril that is “oh no I don’t have a computer.”

With a few deadlines to finish, the blog was pushed to the background and I haven’t been able to reset until now.

Rami’s home for the day, but it’s August and the neighborhood is abandoned. The bakeries, butchers, stores, and restaurants are closed – all with little signs on their doors – Happy Vacation! We’ll be back at the beginning of September! It won’t be until I get back from my trip to the US that this city will begin to function again – and even then, there’ll be a few weeks of moaning that vacation is over, and then once it cools (dear LORD please stop this inferno), we’ll all get back to the norm – until Christmas anyway. This was the other reason broken electronics strike fear in my heart during this month. If anything needs to be fixed, I guarantee all the people that can fix it are at the beach. So that’s why in the past few days, I have searched youtube videos on how to take apart a MacBook and a PS4 controller.

Next week I would love to sit on a beach for our anniversary, but a day after the biggest holiday here, Ferragosto, there won’t be an inch of sand left uncovered, and sitting among other sticky bodies So maybe we’ll head back into the mountains, we aren’t sure yet. But the only people on the streets in these weeks are the tourists in the lines that wrap around the Duomo, and the tortured Florentines that have to work for these people, and are only dreaming about the beach.

For me, I’m going to desperately try and stay on track as the social systems collapse around me and keep writing. But oh how the Italians persuade you to just drift off into the blues and greens of those gorgeous seas, letting the sweat and dust of the city wash off – if just for a month.




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