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When you feel so relieved you could cry, I think it must mean it is the right decision.
I am going to live with Mercedes and her dog. Mercedes lives on the top floor of a 3 story apartment building. I will have a room with a double bed, and a tiny balcony, just enough to have potted plants on. There will be tons of light and a little view. The apartment is small, but it has an oven. The rooftop has an amazing view of a church closeby.

I looked at another apartment which was utterly wonderful. I told the guy - a very sweet, clean guy, that I would take it. But it didn't feel right, and I knew in the pit of my stomach that I should chose Mercedes, despite the dog and the possibility that she might watch people dying in other countries on TV at lunch. I spent last night in practical agony, due to knowing that I made the wrong choice and would have to tell the guy (Francisco) that I wouldn't take it after all.

If my life were much more stable, and I were sure that I would find a good job, I might feel better living in a more normal apartment. I would have had it practically to myself, due to Francisco not being there much. It was decorate in a way that suit me perfectly. It had a nice large room and double bed, slightly bigger living room, perfect kitchen with oven as well, and an utterly wonderful tiny balcony that looked out on a narrow alley with a vine with pink flowers hanging off the opposing building. But I felt like I needed a nice older lady to live with, and Mercedes place is slightly cheaper too.
I would not have chosen to live with any old older lady, as some could be pesky, but she assured me she didn't mind what I did, doesn't meddle, and is easy going. I could tell. She also assured me she would not be watching dead bodies while we ate, and that her dog is very cariñoso (sweet/loving/nice/cute). Mercedes is not all that old - probably 60 at maximum. She has a son that is a fair bit younger than me, and she is a widow.

The other decision was something that came up about 2 weeks ago, but was put into motion on Monday night. I must have been the happiest person in Barrio Santa Cruz. When I walked out of Maria's shop I was smiling hugely and could hardly help being utterly overjoyed. I am going to her shop tomorrow to start sewing. I don't think it will be enough money to live on, and I don't know how sporadic it might be but I am so happy to be able to earn a little bit of money doing something I am pretty much totally comfortable with. I have no moral, philosophical or emotional qualms about sewing bags for her shop. I do not care that I will be like a production worker (on a small scale!). I don't think it is unreasonable what she is offering for the work, and besides, it will not be in a factory! For now, it will be in a corner of her wonderful little shop in the most beautiful neighborhood in Sevilla.

Maria is a very creative lady that sells a very small amount of select clothing and very stylish accessories, some of which she designs and makes herself. She is currently figuring out how best to make these cloth roses out of crinkly fabric, and was sitting in her shop twisting the fabric and sewing it shut, and planning to wash and dry it while twisted, to crinkle it adequately.

I forget if I mentioned how Maria found me: About two weeks ago I walked into her shop. I'd been there months before. She asked me out of the blue if I spoke French. Then she asked where I was from and what I was doing there, and as soon as I said I was looking for work and wanted to stay, she asked if I could sew. We waited till the end of the month, as I'd applied to all the English academies. Not a single one has bitten, despite sounding like one or two might. It is really impossible here without EU papers unless you are very determined. I hope to either figure out how to teach private English classes, or else work in an Irish bar or something. I still have not got the nerve up to go ask. Alfonso Chavez has two people working for him already, and my hand was not good enough to try to get into that sort of work yet.