Today was our local church's fiesta, or carnival for all you gringos out there.
And we are now the uh, proud owners of a goldfish.
The most annoying part of this is that Mr. P did not actually get the ping pong ball into the little bowl. Oh no. We gave three attempts (at four balls each) and it was a no go. Then, the lady helping us said, "Oh, how many times have you paid to do this?" We replied "Three," not knowing what would happen next. "Well" she said, you are in luck because today if you try three times you get the fish no matter what!"
She said this in a great tone of delight, like I was supposed to jump up and down like it was Christmas. Well, that was Mr. P's job, actually. And how in the world can I say, no, we didn't really want it without some sort of meltdown from the boy who thinks he is going to get a fish?
So, we've got a fish.
I researched a bunch of sites that said things like, for each goldfish you must have ten gallons of water. Are they nuts? Ten gallons for a frickin' goldfish? That is a hell of a lot of water. Then the sites instructed that I had to have aerators and filters and gravel and hiding places... This goldfish is supposed to live in the lap of luxury or it will get "stressed."
Yeah, well, goldfish, welcome to the world. Where being "stressed" is the name of the game. If we all have to live with it, so do you.
*And, I have my first ever edition of an advice column at Teeny Manolo, which seems to be tanking. Is it that bad? Will anyone ever ask me for advice again?