Summer is upon us, finally, although I’m not sure why I say “finally” since I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the heat. But I was kind of looking forward to the sun because even my love for rain has its limits. Well, it’s here, the sun. And the heat.
Rain on me
For the last two weeks it has been raining every single day and most nights. And not just gentle rain, no. It’s been torrential for most of the time, complete with thunder and lightning because every rain could use some special effects, apparently.
Now, I wasn’t complaining the first week. The painful memories of the water outages from a month ago were still too fresh. But then I filled up my water reserves. And I added some more. And then some more. Our rainwater reservoirs began to overflow. And there was nothing to water because, well, the clouds were taking care of that.
This week I started to get a little annoyed. I mean, rain fertilising the ground and ensuring our continued water supply during the dry months ahead was all great but we could use a bit of a break. Also, I didn’t want my onions to start rotting because of too much moisture. Farming is hard as I’m sure I’ve mentioned earlier.
That’s how selfish we are, as a species. That’s why we can’t have nice things. Because we can only take them in a certain amount and when that’s exceeded the nice thing is no longer that nice. That’s why we can never be happy. Being human is a misery of complaints.
An uncharacteristic topic
I’ve never been one to take care of herself physically. I was too busy reading. But then life happened and my body started dropping hints it could do with some exercise. I’m not generally very good at taking hints but these I eventually took.
It’s been an educational experience in that it proved that everything, except perhaps addictions, is a matter of habit. If you do something repeatedly for long enough, you reach a point when you can’t stop doing it because you’ve become used to doing it.
And I’m not talking about some superambitious regimen. No, what I do for about 15 minutes every day would be laughable to anyone who is serious about their physical health. But it’s perfectly enough for me. Gone are the back pains and I have to say that I look much better than before, despite the best efforts of the Gravity and Age gang. I mean, they’re still hard at work but I’m fighting back.
So, physical fitness is good for you, in case anyone was wondering. And there’s no such thing as “Oh, I’m far too busy.” That’s a lame excuse. If a sloth like me can do it, anyone can. For a change, it’s something that is both pleasant to do and actually beneficial, unlike most of my other habits.
Weird dreams never end
I’ll be the first to admit I often have extremely weird dreams, which is why my dream journal is a treasure trove of, well, weirdness, but it seems I’m not the only one. My close friends keep dreaming me in impossible situations.
The latest: a very close friend told me today she had dreamed of me getting married to Benedict Cumberbatch, with her and my other best friend to be bridesmaids. Mr. Cumberbatch, according to the dreamer, had an unusually high-pitched voice.
I was blunt in my reaction. Unlike other dreams, this one could never work in a hypothetical reality where I was single. First, Cumberbatch has way too much lip area for my liking. Second, he’s a vegan and while I deeply respect everyone’s right to eat what they like, I couldn’t cook for a vegan. It’s a sad and unfair world, I know. But I have my limits. A nightful of fighting zombies, yes. Down the aisle to a vegan film star, no.
The smell of work in the morning
Sunday is one of my favourite days, right up there with Thursday. The reason I like it so much is that it’s up to me and no one else whether it’s a work day or a rest day. And today, it was a work day.
It’s a funny feeling to work when everyone else is enjoying their two-day weekend. It makes me feel special. Look at all those people slaving away for five days every week and then wasting their weekend time sleeping for twelve hours on end, drinking themselves into oblivion or filling their time with picnics, clubs, and all sorts of things that leave them exhausted by Sunday evening.
Not me. I take all the rest I need on Saturday and by Sunday I’m often a bit bored. So it’s great that I could shift some of my work load from the week to the previous weekend. Because this means I will have to work less during the week. And this means I can gloat at all the weekenders who start Monday by complaining about it being Monday. Beat that for a coping mechanism. I’m so good at coping I amaze myself.
P.S. I spoke too soon about the weather. It’s pissing down again. Rainmaking tip: water the thirstiest of your plants. It works like a charm, like washing your windows.