That’s some huge leap to make from holiday me to work me. I haven’t had more than two consecutive days off in quite some time… after about three I don’t know what to do with myself. And with all the merry-making, and the festivities, and the avoiding painful feelings… I can’t even say what I mean. My fingers are killing me from putting together the pump. Those metal clamps were really tough. And the screwdriver kept slipping out and hitting the tips of my fingers, including where the fan cut me the other day. Ouch. Maybe I just wasn’t made for assembling things. I like the idea of it, and I will always stick with it until it’s finished, but I don’t think that the reason that I always end up doing these types of things is because I’m necessarily the best at it, I think it has more to do with the fact that everyone knows that if they leave me to it, it will get done.
I want to leave right now. I want to be at the airport, boarding the plane, luggage checked in and departure card filled out and submitted… Agh! (that was the scream that I promised now that I’m down to the final 10.) I don’t know how I’ll cope with the monotony of everyday life for the next ten days. Anna said that the last ten days are the longest and that they feel like an eternity. Mum said to me today, “Now, while you’re over there, don’t even think about missing home. It’s too short a time, you’ve just got to get on with it and see everything and do everything and just have fun.” I don’t know if she thinks that if she doesn’t tell me this, I’ll cry myself to sleep every night we’re away and be pining for home every minute that I’m awake. If I’m thinking anything about home at all, it will be to wonder at what mischief Ro will be getting up to.
I’d like to say that I understood what I just did and what happens next but the truth is that I don’t. (and no one will know what I mean by this!)
OH something else to think about. NYE. That takes the focus off counting down the days until we leave. And puts the focus onto something that is more worrying. There are many things I’m concerned about.
Least of these is: where are we all going to sleep? I said I’d sleep on the floor, in front of the doors to the balcony. I used to sleep there most nights when we lived in the house, I can’t remember why but I just preferred sleeping on the floor up there to sleeping in my room.
Agh. I hate when the little email reminder thing pops up and says “you have received an email from…” and it’s something boring like Australian Music Charts, or greater union, or ryanair, but never from an actual person. I mean, sometimes it is, but usually not, because why would someone email me when I’m online anyway?
The worst thing about summer is the intolerable heat, but some of the best things are:
1. stepping into airconditioning (*sigh*) this is especially good when you’re at a shopping centre and have just spent half an hour driving around looking for a park, and walking across the tar which just seems to suck in the heat and radiate it back up at you at double the intensity. Then you get to the auto doors and the air almost goes “shhhhh” as you step inside, like a science fiction movie with those airlock doors.
2. going swimming, whether at the beach or in a pool (but never at southbank. Things are never that desperate)
3. the beaaaaach
4. summer fruits: mangoes, cherries, grapes, watermelon, nectarines
5. actually appreciating being at work for the simple fact that it’s cool and you don’t have to deal with the heat and all the tourists in the mall and you can think about things other than how hot it is.
6. all the public holidays that go along with summertime
7. going for long drives with all the windows down
8. the relaxing cool that follows the darkening of the sky
9. thunderstorms (but only if I am inside!)
I wanted it to be 10, but I’m tired and I can’t think of any more. I hate Antony now, his frivolity makes me feel agitated.
You know what song is sad? That song by the white stripes… the one about having someone in your pocket. So sad. I listen to it on the bus, it always plays just as the bus is passing mountain designs, where the old man asks the bus driver, “just a little further up if you don’t mind, I got a gammy knee”.