Lazy Sunday

Torn today. It should be a lazy Sunday, I'm in the mood for a lazy Sunday, but there's a little voice whispering not so subtly into my ear that life as I know it is almost over, and that I should make the most of every moment left to me. I blame this on seeing Amour on Friday night. And all I can say after watching this clear-eyed, non-sensational nor overly dramatic presentation of what can happen when you're no longer able to care for yourself, or another is, you love someone with the best that you can do, but that doesn't always mean  it's the best for the other person. And that's too bad.

I also thought about the idea, gleaned from an awful, awful, awful movie seen at the VIFF a few years back - so awful that I don't want to remember the title - that when someone dies often he or she returns in the form of a bird, butterfly or bug to say goodbye. In that awful movie, it was a bug, and the bug was trapped behind a window pane, unable to get out.

There, how's that for a depressing start to the day, or more accurately, the second part of the day.

So then I hung up a picture on my bare walls. And replaced a nail with a screw so that my yard-long shoehorn doesn't fall down as easily when I've hung it up. And now I must go cure the rich man's disease. And I'm in the Milano Cafe nibbling on indifferent banana bread and waiting for the years to pass me by. Not the years to come, but the years that have already come and gone.

It's been a potent brew of memories that's been persecuting percolating in me these last two days. This particular brew, like an instant playlist, or mash-up comes from thinking about gold, surgery, employment, decades, Chinese New Year,  missed opportunities, harapan yang tak jadi, Springs gone by the wayside, dead (perhaps) apricot trees, rats with wings, broken bottles, rotting hard boil eggs in jars of face cream, ginger wine, recipes learnt from dad, thoughts of pineapples and big knives, and the smell of coffee in my jacket.

Must. Hold. Back. The. Years. Better than holding back the tears you see.

Then after a suitable amount of time, Dr. C and RP showed up for coffee and we spoke of days to come, plans that may or may not gel, places to drive to, temperature and sun - all three of us are from sunny climates, you see - and in the case of Dr. C and me, of substitutes for island retreats. Dr. J will bare his sharp teeth as us and beat his bosom breast because the best we came up with was a shopping spree at outlet malls in States where there's no sales-tax. However, you can't say that we're not multi-tasking because the plan is to drive to the tax-free outlet mall and in doing so, dry out the oil in RP's car. Vital for maintenance, you see.

And today, the lazy Sunday having slipped into Monday, it's time to take charge and make some decisions. Today, I'm moving my army to the high mountains where they can watch over me, and make snide comments - but that's fine, I'm quite used to having snide remarks made. The other thing I shall do is plant some Lupin seeds and three apricot pits - then hope for the best. I could steal soil, not that it would really be stealing as it was offered to me, but I declined it for reasons best not known to me. No, I shall eschew theft and instead clean out the mossy accretions in my head and pots and then plant them where they should be. Then I shall lay down a framework and hope for the best.

Perspective. That is important at the moment. I must stop myself from following Adrien with an e down the rabbit holes where despite himself, he's following ex-Lt. Riordan and getting up to no good exposing murderers and the vagaries of his recently stitched up heart which needed some repairs to the valve. Goodness, if that's not perspective, then what else is? My prediction? The MRs will ride off to the sunset and block the light for the rest of us. Selfish bastards.

Then Jake (also with e) shot and killed his metaphorical self and the dark tide didn't pull him under and out to sea, and how can I work some of this into my application. I can't - I must not even try. Instead, I shall clear out the dish washer instead.

So there you go, nothing to see here, just move right along.

There. It's down in writing now. Worst fears are faced and all you can do is to best wish. Thank you Mr. Lanyon and Ms. Weldon.

Cosmic fears and wishes indeed.