It's raining hair!

I've concluded that my new homestay family is uber rich.  I base this conclusion off of the following...

1. My bath towel smells like a lemon

2.  They have two cars and a motor bike.  (Still waiting for a ride on the motor bike!)

3.  They have a million books.

4. They have one of those fancy shower things.  (Which I have yet to master and continue to spray myself in the face daily.)

All of those little silver circle are the sprayers.

 

 

5. They buy me things.  Yesterday it was flip flops; today it was hangers, a new pillow, my own coffee, my own toaster, and plates for my room.

My personal toaster!

 

My very own pair of house shoes!

 

6. They basically have central air.

 

7. My mattress is seriously a sleep number bed.

 

8. Their location in the city is perfect and they have access to their very own roof.

 

9. They have a lot of hats.  I've been continuously playing a game of "I spy the hat."  These are my favorite out of all of the ones I have found thus far:

 

10. The house is spotless.  No clutter or dirt anywhere! 


I should also mention that they don't own garbage cans.  I've only found one in the entire house and it resides in the kitchen.  The bathroom doesn't even have one!  Due to the lack of garbage cans, I've been having a major internal struggle with my hair brush.  Having hair in my brush really, really, really, really bothers me!  So much so, that after brushing my hair each time, I normally clean out all of the hair.  This is just a guess, but I do not think it is the Spanish norm to be found in the kitchen next to the garbage can with fistfuls of hair and your brush.  So for the last 30 hours, I've been leaving the hair in my brush and having major anxiety.  (Certain things I am really OCD about and this is one of them.)  Therefore, today after using my brush, I just couldn't take seeing the hair anymore.  I couldn't even bring myself to brush my hair with it.  Without even thinking, I rapidly pulled out all of the hair and was soon left with a fistful and nowhere to go.  Then I noticed the window in my room...

 

 

I'll give you a second to imagine my thoughts during this moment...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 And somewhere down there lays my hair.



 

 
To be fair, it was my only option.  It's not my fault this house has only ONE garbage can.  To live with anxiety for the next ten days just wasn't an option.  What was I supposed to do?  I totally get that it's not normal in any culture to throw your hair out the window onto the patio below. But we're talking insane anxiety over leaving it in my brush.  Maybe on my last day here, I'll drop a note down there apologizing.  But until then, this is where my hair will be going!