I have to say

I'm glad I don't get excited about things like the terrace that the posh café down the block is building. I have nothing against terraces. I don't have much against posh cafés, either. It's just that you have to be really comfortable in a place to get excited about something like that. It seems that, after a while, any change in scenery calls your attention in disproportionate ways.

Calls your attention? ... Can I say that in English?

I get abnormally excited about things in disproportionate ways, too. For example, I made friends with a street dog the other night. She was nice. Hungry. A little timid. But nice. I got pretty excited about her. But when a puppy (One of hers? I think so. It seemed so at the time.) came wriggling through a gate and bumbled around the sidewalk in that puppy "I'm so lost and happy" sort of way -- Oh, I lost it. I lost it without warning, without excuse, without recovery. (You see--I'm still thinking about it. I'm still wishing I had brought him home with me.) He would have fit in my purse, but I had enough sense to suffice myself with picking him up and pretending he were mine for just a minute. I get excited about things like that.

But terraces? And concrete slabs of to-be-malls? ... Chucha. Me aburre pensar que podría pasar a mi algun día.