Where I am

So here I am forcing myself to write. Write about what I have no idea. This is off to a good start clearly.

Lately I've been a total space case, I'm either daydreaming or sleeping. Trying to get my attention is really hard. It involves waving at me continuously. I leave things everywhere [did I mention I left my phone in the car yesterday and had to hike 2kms in my pyjamas to retrieve it? That was fun.] I've stopped eating. I do things and then kind of forget that I'm doing them.

If this keeps up, eventually I'm going to be the new inventor of Flubber or something.

But most of all I've stopped writing. People are complaining. So here I am. Trying to think of something concrete to blog about.

This is not working.

All my neighbours are nuts. I have the Chinese pornstar next to me screaming at all hours of the night and then diagonally across I have the stressed out lady who's running around trying to kill the people downstairs by cutting their car brakes [do you think the pornstar contributes to the stress? Lack of sleep as a contributing factor maybe?] You'd think in a higher class suburb you'd have less incidence of sex and attempted murder- but no I'm starting to think it's roughly around the same amount.

Anyway. Writer's block.

During a particularly busy period last week, my manager leaned back and said "you know some people garden for a living... they just kind of potter around..." and then she looked kind of wistful. Do you know what? That's exactly how I feel. I'm starting to think I'm ready to retire. I just want to get up and paint for a bit. Play with the dog. Read a book lying on a bench and just do nothing. I say I never want to leave the city and I'll miss macaroons and chestnut dumplings and chorizos and phone reception but secretly? [or not so secretly anymore] if you moved me to a little property in the countryside and gave me a stack of books I probably wouldn't complain that hard. I get a daydream about raising ducks and planting lavender every time work gets stressful.

[Yes I know, ducks can get gross. I know they are messy and they just go to the damn bathroom everywhere. Shut up. My daydream ducks are clean and fly away for the winter so I don't have to go outdoors in the rain to feed them.]

--

I play one memory over and over in my mind. I'm sitting there on the bench waiting for him and I'm fussing around inside my handbag. When I look up, he's walking towards me and delivers me the biggest smile I've ever seen. I can't help but smile back. It was pure sunshine on a cold September night. And even now when I think about it- I get the fuzzies and I knock over things. [Ask me if my keyboard at work is ruined from constant drowning.]

I don't know what it was about that particular moment. But anyway now you know where my head is at. On a bench somewhere in a suburban mall.