Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Creeps! Los hombres quien siempre dicen "manaña." (Those guys who always say "tomorrow.")
10 a.m. With fingers tightly crossed, I sit at my desk and hear the zap of the welding torch as the final bit -- the second gate -- comes together. Will today be the day the dogs finally run free?

Donny -- Doni?- preferred to sleep during today's lunch break. He's 16, and working hard.

Yesterday, Wednesday, I had to rise early and grab a passing bus to Managua to meet Noel and go to Inmigración. I was to have my photo taken for the cedula, the credit card-sized ID for a foreign resident. The place was a zoo; we went from standing in one line to another -- when my name was finally called for the photo, I was told to go to the cashier to pay 5,900 cordobas. Another long line, but the fee was less than expected, about $207. Then back to the seats to wait, and finally, I was seated for my photo. The photo was actually taken about 20 minutes later, but Noel and I did not complain. The offices were air-conditioned, unlike the waiting area, which was hot and humid, thanks to an overnight rain. Something was being argued about, or was lost, or the staff were merely gossiping in hushed tones, but eventually I was told to adjust my position, and the camera flashed. Then my thumb prints were taken by a scanner, and my signature was preserved for posterity. They held on to my passport, rechecked my new address, and sent us out to the hellishly hot waiting area.

I surrendered to the allure of the Eskimo kiosk (in Spanish, it is pronounced es-KEE-mo) and bought a coconut ice cream cone, which was heavenly. After about a half-hour, my name was called and we re-entered the air conditioning, half expecting another delay, and... there it was. My long-sought, hard-won cedula, the prized resident visa, good for five years, with a photo of my aging face and my new address. I think I am in this for the long haul now. I feel like a Nicaraguan.

When I returned home, the fence crew were just putting away their tools and the jefe explained that he needed another $20 to buy some small things, including metal saw discs to complete the job. After shelling out $1300 for the "Godzilla Fence," what's another twenty bucks? I dubbed the fence thusly because it was needed only to keep two small dogs from running away and getting into trouble. A nuclear monster would have his work cut out for him if he foolishly decided to stomp on my house.

My house. I feel lonely here -- a temporary condition, I trust. I have just lived for nine months in somebody else's house, with near constant company. I longed for solitude, and, at least in the evenings, here, I have had it. Maria Jose comes tomorrow to clean, and her husband Jonathan is going to help me put up my shelves. Progress!

P.S. 6 p.m.
The fence is complete! Pix prove it:

Donny painting the gate to prevent rust.

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts...

A visitor from the east on the other side of the fence.

Two happy doggies checking out the boundaries.