7.08.2017

Journal, February 4, 1977 PM

<Sofia and I talked with the new priest (one of the two) this morning.> It was kind of an anticlimax. As it turned out, he was no spit & polish Spaniard, stickler for details, but a young Spanish priest with a mod hairdo who came here from the U.S. where he had spent 2 years in New Mexico. He will marry me with just my passport and my witness. We go back to see him the 18th at 7 PM. I think with him I might be able to talk about religion on an intellectual level. Perhaps I’ll get the chance.

<Sofia & I both had rather long days yesterday, & we clashed a bit.> I was in one of my preoccupied states of mind where I almost shut out all other stimuli. I was thinking about how to get a bed to fit in our tiny room, & how I might measure the room to be sure, since I have no ruler. <She was being hurried by her sisters to leave right now, & then I made a highly ill advised comment about her having served 2 meat dishes for supper. It turned out one of her sisters had bought “mortadela {lunch meat}” after Sofia had already gotten veal to make.> But she got angry with me first & then threw that crucial information in as a “besides” when she was scolding me. And oh how I hate to be upbraided before other people! I then completely clammed up & was sullen. Twas no big thing, but every such breakdown of communication worries me.

I ran off my frustrations taking a jog around Santo Domingo. Today I plan to attempt bed buying in Santo Domingo. Ramón {my coworker} says he knows the furniture dealer on the corner.

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