This morning I went to Machala to donate the few clothing items that I did not give away yesterday to a shelter for victims of human trafficking. When I returned, two of the girls that received clothing came over to my house to hang out. They both live in a really remote
barrio that is pretty far from town and
very poor. So it was a special treat for them to come over. We baked sugar cookies and colored. I sent them home with a container full of fresh cookie and a toy each to play with. I told them they could bring back the toys and Tupperware when they visited me again, which we planned for next Tuesday afternoon.
After the girls left, I had another meeting with the mothers of the small business my counterpart started. (We are making and selling disinfectant for the bathroom and kitchen,) We decided to make another batch of disinfectant for Monday because there are two reunions of women to whom we can sell our product to.
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The worst part about living alone is that when I discover that I am not quite as alone as I had thought (as in certain insects are living with me), there is no one to kill them but myself. As I write this, something is living under my fridge. I am afraid. Very afraid.
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