che palle

It had been a long day— Valentina’s flight had been cancelled last minute due to bad weather or whatever, so she had to fly to Philadelphia, then down to Washington DC before getting a later fight up to Chicago— and all Valentina wanted to do was go to bed. That, however, wasn’t happening anytime soon; a text from her father when she got off the plane told her that the moving van with her stuff was waiting at her new apartment building, and when she arrived her stuff was in a pile in the middle of the lobby. “Che palle,” she mumbled to herself as she grabbed her first, heavy piece of luggage, beginning to tug it towards the elevator. “I swear there are bricks in this bag.”