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Now, How Did We Get Here Again?

I don't think anyone will be surprised to know that I am having D-O-U-B-T-S about signing up for another year of teaching and living in Ecuador.  

Part of the problem is me, I'm a chronic second guesser who always questions decisions I make.  The other part of the problem is it's just that time of year, the crazy "school has got to let up soon or I will go bald pulling out all of my hair" time of year.  Kids are starting to go wild because they can smell the three week vacation that is just around the corner, high school finals start tomorrow (exactly what is a middle school teacher doing writing a senior literature final?  I have no idea what I'm doing here!), report cards are due soon, and I stupidly have assigned major projects/papers/presentations (the curse of the triple p) to be due this week.

Not to mention the weather...

Oh yes, the rainy season is almost upon us and we all know how well that went for me last year.  By the end of February, the faint sound of a thunderclap would reduce me to tears.  

For the past two weeks, I have repeatedly turned to Dave, a bewildered expression weighing on my normally cheerful face, and asked, "Now, how did we get here again?  Why did we agree to stay?"

Today, I got my answer.

Dave had to have surgery on his knee this morning (an ecua-adventure worthy of its own post) due to a torn meniscus from all that crazy futbol playing.  Throughout the day, we had friends--notice the plural form--call us at the clinic offering to translate for us, offering to sort out the billing for us, coming to pick us up after Dave's epidural finally wore off after five hours.  People rearranged their day, stopped by after work, called to check in.  We've had friends offer to make us dinner, to cover classes, to entertain my poor husband when his patience finally snaps at being cooped up for so long.

That's why we are staying here another year.  Thanks for the reminder guys, I needed that. 
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