It still doesn't feel to wintery to me here, although I acknowledge the possibility that I have been given ludicrous expectations of the season by growing up in New England. Horse-drawn sleighs traversing through pristine mounds of freshly fallen powder, anyone? Tunnels of light and darkness caused by the ice-heavy pine and birch along the driveway? While the general mood of northern Spain does not reek of early February in all of its romanticized bleakness, it is cold enough that, should any precipitation decide to take place then it would almost certainly be in the form of snow.
It has been a very standard procedure week, but I'm just about to the place where routine is wearing on me. "But you've only been back a couple of weeks!" you may protest, but a couple of weeks is all I've ever needed to get antsy. I love Tolstoy and all, but if I will be damned (excuse the expression) if I spend this weekend curled up on the couch with War and Peace…again. It's time to go out dancing and shake the dry cold out of my bones. It's time to go to the cinema or simply do something entirely new. I'm ready for some music. Although, let's be honest, I'm always ready for some music.
Anyway, I will be waking up tomorrow morning at 8:30 to give this apartment a thorough scrubbing. Someone is coming to look at my little abode tomorrow around noon to see if they might like to take up residence. It would be nice to share my space again, I'm not at a place in my life where living alone is an attractive option. However, although I have much faith in my Little Apartment That Could, even I can see that my transient life-style, out at seven or eight in the morning and in at midnight or later, has taken its toll. To put the mess simply, it's a total bacholerette pad. Immediate orders of business?
- Take giant rack of drying pants out of the center of the living area and put them in my own room.
- Sweep the floors and mop down the "kitchen" tiles
- Wipe out the sinks thoroughly
- Actually wash the dishes in the sink. Running water over them and putting them away does not count.
- Finish moving myself out of the Blue Room and into the Peach Room
Add various nooks and crannies to that list and you have a good idea of what I have ahead of me. Luckily, I stayed up until two thirty scrubbing out my refrigerator the other night, due to a concerning mold scent, which appears to have been eradicated for the moment. But, like broken boilers and holes in the walls, you can be sure that the curious scent will be back with a vengeance at some point. I like to think of dysfunction and I's arrangement in this space as "symbiosis"- it's been a loud, but affectionate roommate.
No comments:
Post a Comment