Where in the World is Flick? (Home)

I just get back from a quick trip to the store to pick up the new ZzzQuil (to help me kick the residual jet-lag), and a few things for my mom. During this last-minute trip several things struck me.

First and foremost: I drove. I decided I wanted to go to the store, got into my car and drove there. This is not remarkable to anyone in America, but it is for me. Normally I would have to walk or bike to the store (when I was in Rundu), or get a ride into town at the end of the week. The miraculousness of getting there in 5 minutes cannot be understated.

I decided to go to the store at 8:40 pm. This would certainly not fly in Namibia. Everything closes at 5 or 6, even in the capitol. Namibia is like the world’s largest small town where everything closes early in the evening, and stays closed on Sundays.

I have also discovered the exact amount of time it takes to get sick of American radio; especially the commercials: One week.

Despite the radio, with its terrible commercials and music, America is really the land of wonderful convenience.