Today is the first Sunday that I have spent at home for a long time, so I decided to spend the day doing absolutely bugger all. Of course, this goes against Kabbalah, where the period of the week for doing sweet fanny adams is from sundown on Friday night to sundown on Saturday night - but for this weekend, without fear of a wrathful, judgmental God, I am going to use my divine nature and forgive myself.
And anyway, I have been on a trip to the supermarket, put a load of washing on and folded some clothes ready for ironing later on, which counts as work. So I guess I am off the hook.
With a day of leisure ahead of me and the sun shining, I found that I spent far too much time deciding what to do which then led to running out of time for doing it. I ought to have spent a couple of hours in the garden, which has been neglected since the end of October, but instead I made another cup of coffee, switched on my iPod and ended up counting on next weekend being just as sunny.
Although the sun was shining warmly through the windows, the house I live in is generally cold and damp so I tend to wear lots of layers and get suspicious of the real temperature outside. It might look warm and sunny but I have been deceived before, shivered my way in to town and wished that I had worn a warm coat and a big thick jumper.
On the homeostasis front, I am reptilian in nature - when I get cold then only lying on a slab of rock in the sun or jumping in a hot bath will warm me up. When I get too hot then I want a beach umbrella and a cool breeze (the same as any other Bearded Dragon), or a cold shower. So it didn't surprise me when I walked in to town wearing two vest tops, a long sleeved roll-neck, a merino wool cardigan and an overcoat, and saw everyone but the very old sporting short sleeves or a spring jacket at most. And I still didn't feel warm.
On the way in to town I walked past Specsavers and remembered that I needed to make an appointment for my contact lense check up. They sent me a reminder at the end of January telling me that it was nearly six months since my last check up. Then they sent me another reminder last week to say "you might not realise this, but it is now over a year since your last checkup". Goodness, how time flies. Have I missed my birthday already? I might wait to see how old I am when the next letter arrives - perhaps I might qualify for free eye-care in May.
So now I am back at home, have just polished off another cup of tea, listened to my iPod until the battery needed recharging and decided to spend some of my leisure time browsing through some blogs. And I came across one entry which made me even more determined to enjoy the rest of my day.
I have been following Braja's blog "Lost and Found in India" for a couple of months now. Braja is a wonderfully spiritual but grounded Australian Yogi, living in Mayapur, India. Her last post was on Wednesday, giving the details of her trip to Bangkok - the taxi that would come and collect her and her husband at 3:45am for the three hour drive to Dum Dum airport - and how the sights, smells and sounds of her village seemed so much more intense as she was about to leave.
I started to read updates from the blogs I follow in turn, and the first was a week in review from Marinka on her Motherhood in NYC blog, who reported that the taxi carrying Braja and her husband to the airport was involved in a huge collision. Braja went from the back seat to the front windscreen, knocking a two inch hole in it. Her husband suffered multiple fractures and was in a critical condition. The driver may still possibly have to have his leg amputated. The updates give details on their progress, the wreck of the car, how they were pulled from the car presumed dead because they were unconscious and unceremoniously dragged by the arms along the floor of the hospital until somebody noticed that they were still breathing. They are all still alive. Just. And maybe not entirely out of the woods.
It's funny how you can get to know people through their blogs (although on that note I will add that everything I write on my blog is entirely ficticious and nothing like me at all in case you suspect that I a whinging, neurotic layabout who spends most of her day in her head dreaming about life and most of her time on the couch eating chocolate).
I have never met Braja, never talked to her, never emailed her. But I feel so much better for having found her, and very grateful not to be losing her. I wish her, her husband and the driver the speediest of recoveries.
And I remind myself that every day - no matter what the weather - is precious.
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