So friday we went to my parents' house to let them know about all the latest news, the house, the job, and tell them we are very happy.
The lawyer and the teacher, my parents, told me that they are ashamed of me, and that they don't want their friends to know that I'm going to work in a climbing shop, "because their sons have found their ways".
Saturday, on the other hand, we went to Serena's party in the hills surrounding Florence. There was a big fire with meat cooking, and a 20 kg pig in the oven. I got very drunk, and as I was taking a pee in the wood with the light of the moon so bright and the music coming from all around me, I thought that life is really magnificent.
I don't need much else than saturday night.
There were tons of people, everybody was taking goes at the instruments and singing, while inside they were playing and dancing Tango.
I almost didn't eat anything, but drank alot of Nero d'Avola and Negramaro and more than once missed my brit friends.
At one o' clock I was so tired I barely made it to the bed. Dead corpses everywhere.
We took the house. It's one minute from where girlfriend works, ten minutes from my work, two minutes from the wall: in one of the most traffic jammed cities in Italy, that's not bad at all.
Yes yes fucking yes.