Paresseuse

Lazy

Last meal: Awesome sugary “Fitness” cereal.

Drink of choice: Milk. I’ve somehow gone through about 8L in one week.

Song in my head: (best beat for runs)

This week I was housesitting.

I really really like housesitting. I’ve done it for my sister a couple of times, and for my dad (let’s try to forget the semi-broken foot incident), and so I was thoroughly looking forward to housesitting here too.

I think it was a good time for me to be actually alone for a bit. However I’ve come to the realisation that being alone (actually alone, as in: my daily human contact is giving the workmen outside coffees, and two sentences are exchanged [one of which is “Voilà, les cafés.”]) is only good for me in the rather short term. Being completely alone like this, for a whole week, I’ve discovered, lets me fall into bad habits. Not that people hold me to good habits, and I shouldn’t need anyone’s approval to keep those good habits, but evidently I need people around me to do … anything.

That said, I wasn’t completely alone for the whole time, since Yvonne’s son Jason asked me to babysit for a few mornings, but still. For the vast majority of the time, I was by myself in someone else’s wonderful but rather large house. Which creaked sometimes.

Learning about myself like a wanker aside, it was actually a pretty fun week. I watched every available episode of Downton Abbey. I thought about the future. I took luvvo photos. I went for three good runs. I learnt some new recipes. I got sucked in by the Kony 2012 campaign, and experienced the ensuing idealism that has lain dormant in the depths of my colon for some time. I decided to take up an easy travelling hobby. I ate too much yoghurt, cereal, bread and pastry. I wrote many lists. I rode the bike I was borrowing (it was a man’s mountain bike – so different and weird to dear Betty). But of course, I wasted time too.

I started reading again. Here is some Wordsworth:

LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

Loneliness and missing Australia and its contents (i.e. YOU) was pretty rampant this week too. I’m not sure if I’ll get over it with time, but I’m not sure whether I want to anyway.

Despite much umming and ahring, I have finally decided to decline the generous offer of the job at the restaurant. 10 hours of washing up per day, 6 days a week, for the 6 months surrounding summer, and living in a caravan outside my place of work just wasn’t quite right for me. Instead I think I’ll just slowly dwindle my savings away in places of my choosing.

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One thought on “Paresseuse

  1. Terry McCann says:

    Hi Oribia,

    I’m glad you’ve decided dish pigging is not for you! 60 hours a week doing something like that doesn’t sound much like a holiday! You will find a better offer!

    Have fun, learn lots of Frenchamy stufamy!

    Oh Voir Mon Ami!

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