An Equitable Diaphragm

Dear Family,

That my emails are coming farther and fewer between is indicative that I'm finding more things here to tie myself to. I don't feel the need, so deeply, to relate my life in Korea with heretofore familiar things. On the other hand, I've never so appreciated fortification from friends back home. How shall I say it? My roots are deeper, but the wind is proportionately stronger. So don't forget about me quite yet - I count on your prayers!

Teresa and I bought a cordless a few whiles ago, which is a super-blessing. I can get things done while I talk now, so I don't feel like I'm wasting half a day when I call home on Tuesdays. That will be my last splurge for a while, though. Since I've been here, I've been keeping track of how much I spend, and on what. About a week ago, I multiplied my monthly expenses by two years. If I don't buy any more cordless phones, I should be just able to scrape through language school on what I make teaching.

That is, provided I can find a cheap enough apartment to rent. I have to find another place to live by the end of February. There are a few options before me, but each holds its own respective quirk, leaving me uncertain as to how to proceed. I'm not troubled, though. I have no anxiety. God has never failed to provide, nor will He now.

The days are very cold. I avoid the out of doors as much as possible, which while perhaps not good, nevertheless is. I contemplate making use of my apartment's five-flight staircase. It's not heated, of course, but being enclosed, nor is it bitter. The exercise would, no doubt, be good for me. But so far it hasn't passed from ponder to practice, and perhaps never will.

My students gazed quizzically, a day ago, when I randomly contracted the hiccoughs. I supposed they were just being amused, as was I myself. The malady passed quickly enough. I spoke of the happenstance, later, to Teresa.
"You know what they were thinking, don't you?" She asked.
I shook my head.
"Well, when a person hiccoughs, it means that he's eaten stolen food."
Though guiltless, I cannot plead innocent. I'm told, to my chagrin, that the diaphragm never lies!