|Bedside flowers. Beautiful, and soon to be useful.|
|Not my street, my moon, but close. Photo by Dan Heller|
In my hurry to catch the recycling guys, I had not been careful when jumping out of bed. Its a terrible design, with shark-like corners jutting out. So now I was limping, as well as having to live with my own rubbish for another two weeks.
It was my first day of a writing project, so I bravely to work. But at 7 am, the construction guys next door started up.
The whine of metal cutting metal is a dentist drill to the soul. Especially when your body chemistry is already primed to be in 'attack the attacker' mode.
For hours I pretended to ignore it, as my focus scattered at every blow, and body hardened up like an aardvark.
|Does the noise bother my peaceful, salad-bowl goldfish?|
Why didn't I pack my bags and leave? Balmain has a nice library, lovely harbor side parks I could have sat at with laptop and picnic rugs. But like a battered wife I got all helpless, chose to stay home. There is a word for staying on the path you are already on, no matter how unhealthy. Its from the Latin 'con' (with) + 'via' (road) = Convenient.*
|Plate as displayed in the living room. Interesting angle.|
By afternoon I was dehydrated, had no work done, and utterly miserable. The dehydration is just collateral damage - you can't selectively silence one cry from help from your body, and stay sensitive to other requests.
I took a nap. Then I woke up at 3.30, construction guys gone home, the air sweet with silence. The designer in me re-emerged, went into creative micro-action, and I de-angrified my house.
No matter what, tomorrow I would not be victim of anything.
1. I forced myself to drink lots of water, like it or not.
Mm, much better.
|Vicious corner outed, padded, and embarrassed|
2. I muzzled the bed. Tying on bandage-like cloths made vicious corners glaringly visible, and less harmful if hit. My final revenge, they are humiliated with a girly bow.
3. More ribbon, to alert me that the head-banging light is near. Making the bed always ends in tears. Till now.
4. I remembered something else that annoyed me - disobedient towels. They kept falling out, I kept shoving them back in.
I decided on a bit of graceful 'in-conveniance'.
I sat myself down, and asked the towels 'Whats going on?'
They told me they hadn't been folded properly, there wasn't room for the little towels to sit down flat and balanced, and they were unhappy too.
My usual way of folding in quarters does not work for this space. I had to learn folding into thirds. A Perfect fit.
Now they can do their job well, for months. We won't fight anymore.
|I had heard a guest swear as he stubbed his toe here. Flowers now draw our eye to this danger.|
For the first half I chose they misery of impotent anger and victimhood. For the second half I chose the freedom of 'inconvenience' and being a designer, not a whiner.
The second half was so much more fun.
*I made up that 'Convenient' etymology. But its a liberating way to look at things.