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On peace and quiet

I like titles that start with “On…” because they always make me think of “On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen!”

Today is the first day in a while that I haven’t had anything I’m supposed to go out and do. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks at Chez Cutlery Drawer, with work and uni becoming simultaneously forceful and busy; nothing conflict-laden or too much, just lots on at once. So this weekend, I thought I’d bask in the pleasant peace of a commitment-free weekend. Yesterday we went out for a late breakfast, and then did a cheese crawl through some of the up-market food stores in town. The Manuka Fine Foods store has a cheese room, with a cheese man and a cheese man’s apprentice, and he guided us through a cheese tasting. We indicated our gratitude by handing him some of our dollars and then took some of his cheese home. We have a fridge full of divine cheeses now, including a roquefort that was the first thing I thought of when I woke up in the middle of the night.

And then we had a spontaneous curry party last night! Huzzah!

Today I don’t have to go anywhere. Relaxing. Peaceful. The perfect chance to reflect on my achievements and work out where I want to go from here.

Then I get up this morning…aaaaaand toilet’s blocked.  Seriously blocked. Kill me.

I have a theory that the most valuable rest comes not from idleness but from a change in activity: I don’t like watching TV or movies much, so I like read, knit, study, sew, write, cook and clean the fishtank to relax. I think it’s relaxing, anyway. (Relaxed is when you feel sort of fizzy and get a cramp in your foot, right?) The brain, I think, is not usually meant to do nothing: even when you sleep, it’s still churning away, turning the milk of your day into the butter of memory (that’s right, I can rock metaphors with the best of them). Today, my brain is enjoying the refreshingly novel task of organising an emergency plumber to come and clean all the tree roots out of our drains so we can use the toilet again. If anybody needs me, I’ll be over here, knitting with my legs crossed.

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