Pulire le Ossa

I decided that I couldn't put off washing my bone and tooth samples any longer. Having squeaky-clean bones raises my chances of getting them back through customs with no problem, as customs is never happy about having foreign dirt enter the country. I set up shop on the plastic furniture on the patio - bag o' samples, tupperware with water, toothbrush, and tissues for speedier drying. It was about an hour until the roommates started to take notice around lunchtime. Marco and Ivan were out, and Angelo and Pier-Paolo were cooking some pasta. A few minutes passed, and Pier-Paolo came out to where I was washing bones. He said, "Do you know where the napkins are?" I momentarily forgot the word for napkin (since it's the equivalent of mini-table) and asked, "Where are the what?" "The napkins." I said, "No, I don't know." He asked if he could have one of the tissues. I said sure. It was so cute - he came up with an excuse to come see what I was doing, and then to get even closer by taking a tissue from the table. When Marco and Ivan got home, they were completely amused by the array of bones and teeth on their patio, and Angelo and Pier-Paolo came out for a more thorough demonstration of what it is I do. I guess if I were making lunch and caught sight of the random foreigner who lived with me and barely spoke my language doing something completely weird, I'd make an excuse to find out what she was up to as well.


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