"if it wasn't for bad luck, i wouldn't have no luck at all"

There is a family here in Bobov Dol who is always asking me to come over and visit. I’ll see them on the street and they’ll ask when I’m coming to visit and we’ll decide on a time either later that day or the next day. That time will come around and I’ll go and we’ll have a great visit. The father will break out the chess and absolutely destroy me, or he’ll try to teach me a card game in Bulgarian and I won’t understand a single thing. Or the mother will stuff me until I can’t up with home canned fruits, the most tender meat I have ever had or homemade yoghurt with homemade honey. Those times are great, and though they make me stay longer than I want, and embarrass me with generosity I love visiting them.

The other times, though, it is always awkward. Whenever I leave they always tell me that I don’t need an invitation, just come over whenever. When I do that though, I always pick the worst times to come over. One time I rang the bell and the father came out unshaven in his boxers. Another time, I woke them up (they are older and like to sleep in the afternoon). Today, even though I told them I was coming over this weekend, I caught them right as they were leaving to go visit their parents. So they dropped everything and invited me in and made coffee, and brought out homemade sweets and chocolates and we ended up talking for an hour. The whole time I was thinking, “ohman they hate me.” Once, just once, I would like to pick a time when they didn’t open the door and say “oh, hi, Andy, it’s uh… good to see you…” (Translated from Bulgarian…)