The refrigerator is a place. It is a state of mind and consciousness. Is a euphemistic appellation for a well-defined and official name, of course, the Mexican territory.
I'm not entirely sure, but apparently the fridge in summer becomes the oven.
But I deviate from the central theme this year, as has happened every year for sick time, I'm going to spend Christmas at the fridge.
Someone once said: "Fridge? Freezer!" Narda-like say, or Sumito, but we prefer to say cooling the fridge.
There was a year in the refrigerator were to 15 below zero or something. He, who knows.
The promise spending some time with Dad, as he does not spend much time, together. Cooking for Christmas dinner and for the new year. Giving away things and enjoy the peace that only the mountains can provide Coahuila: no drunks who make pinole in the peripheral or rockets at midnight into the street or traffic hell-not to be confused with "winter traffic," at 9 pm 24 or 31.
Now we just wait for the day and time in which the silvery steed forties reclining seats, flight attendant uniform, lunch and midnight charro movies take me to my destination and fulfill my role tameme, given bound circumstances, there and back.
i tell them how I was.
gonX
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