Bertha Antoinetta Mason Rochester

I need to write this without the letter after "u" because that key doesn't work.

I think that my host family is crazy. Reasons: 1. There is a sign on the door to their room with couches and films (you know what kind of room I am talking about) that reads the word which means "opposite of public" 2. The mom was changing the sheets last night for a bed that no one sleeps in 3. the son will not talk to me 4. the mom displays her wedding pictures with her husband obiously cropped out. Now I know how Jane Eyre felt. He's probably locked up in the so-called "spare bedroom".
Last night my German friend, the host mom and I ate dinner together. There has not been a time in my life prior to that when I felt so fat. They were congratulating each other on how skinny they are, and talking about fat Americans. The host mom gossiped about her former students all night; I wonder what she will say about me. This morning she told me to make sure I didn't use too much Nutella or I'll get fat.

Last night I took another shower, and despite trying to keep the water strictly inside the tub I managed to spray it upon the floor. I'm already pretty scared of this mom, so I used my own towel to mop. That was fine, but the bathmat was still wet. I tried to wrench the water out, and when that didn't work I took the mom's hairdryer and tried to blow-dry it. That worked for about six minutes but then the outlet stopped working, so I brought the mat to my room with the blowdryer and worked from there. After about fifteen minutes it became clear that it was impossible to do this, so I decided to let it air-dry for the night and get up before the mom so I could blow-dry again. I got up at six and decided it wasn't worth getting caught with the blow-dryer so I snuck the stuff back, but at six-thirty I changed my mind again and worked on it for thirty minutes at which point I heard the mom walking around. I decided I had no choice but to run for it, and with bath mat and blow-dryer in hand I collided with the mom. I swear, this is all true. The confrontation was kind of a letdown, the mat was still pretty wet and she told me I was the only person to make this mistake about nine times. Apparently you can't put the shower on strong. It's not so much a shower as it is a spongebath. Anyway, she didn't notice the hairdryer, so I brought it back to my room. I was so disoriented by the whole thing that I left for school an hour early thinking that I was late. When I realized my mistake I went back to the house, realizing I forgot to sneak back the blowdryer. Unfortunately, upon my return it became apparent that Cybelle had gone through my bureau in the ten minutes I was gone and taken the dryer back herself. I'm anticipating another lecture or four on that one, probably similar to those I got for putting my toothbrush in the bathroom.

I miss Minnesota for it's lack of sexual harassment. I'm really tired of not being able to walk alone without getting yelled at or grabbed at. It's hard to find a sense of comfortable solitude when men are constantly and openly staring at me. It isn't how I thought it would be; I guess I had a picture of myself like Daid Sedaris in his essays about Paris, quietly regarding the passage of people and time. Maybe I should cut my hair and buy some gay pride t-shirts.