I escorted Mom to the clinic this morning, where she received her typical round of torture (this time sans crying). We rode a red taxi back to the house, where Mom started laundry because it was sunny. The cleaning lady arrived at 14:00, and we left to buy a scarf and a lamp. Mom used her newfound bargaining skills to negotiate the scarf’s price down to 100 dirham (still US$10), and we set off down the hill to the lamp shop.

The parental units finally decided on a lamp and a price, and Dad, the shop helper, and I set off to get money from an ATM. I thought we would be going to the one by the donuts, but I was, unfortunately, mistaken. Once we’d bought the lamp, we left it in the care of the shop. We hope we’ll see it in several months, since they’re mailing it to us.

Ethan decided to lead the way to the donuts, and off we went.

“Haven’t I been here before?” I remarked dryly as we arrived back in the coppersmiths’ square, which was next to the shop. Somehow we found our way to the donut street, and Dad decided it was down the street. It was 16:30, and we’d told the cleaning lady we’d be back by 16:00. Mom and I went back home, and Dad and Ethan went downhill.

We passed the donut shop.

“Should I tell them?” Mom asked.

“No.”

“Well, I think we should, just to be nice.”

“I’m not into this ‘nice’ thing.”

“I’m going to call them anyway. Hello? Yes, we just passed the donut shop. Okay. Bye-bye.”

After we returned safe and sound, Dad and Ethan arrived with four delicious, greasy, sugarcoated donuts.

At about 19:00, we ventured into the streets for supper at Café Clock. Mom, Dad, and I ordered falafel while Ethan chose a cheese sandwich, which he shared with Dad. (He had part of Dad’s falafel, meaning that Ethan’s been to Café Clock for supper four times and has had falafel four times.)

Ciao!