Today marks the start of great changes.
We visited the Rand Easter Show with Ilze and Cas yesterday. Mother remained at home and cooked us the most wonderful veg soup which we had when we returned after 19:00.
The show was wonderful. A change, as they say, is as good as a holiday. We covered most of the exhibit halls and we bought fake Kouros, which I love. The real thing reminds me of Mother's Imprevú. we also got Cannabis flavoured incense, which incidentally contains no dagga or resemblance to the drug. I should imagine.
Ilze bought me a yummy Arabian sweet with buttery puff pastry and a sweet pistachio filling. I am having it now. Almost like baklava, but not as sweet. Really good.
For The One the highlight of the day was the rides in the fun faire. I did not enjoy that part in the least. I reluctantly agreed to go on two of the wilder rides with him when he begged me. So we went on the Breakdancer, a much more aggressive version of those old-fashioned spinning teacup kiddies rides which always feature at these events. After a few seconds when the severity of the ride hit me, I shut my eyes and tried to go to my safe place. I was only partly successful. I disliked the entire brutal experience. The One loved it.
The second ride, the Crazy Wave, was much, much more unpleasant for me. Ilze and Cas joined us on this one. That goddamned thing should be banned. I was very surprised that everyone except my poor sister and I enjoyed 30 seconds of the most violent torture. I tried to go to my safe place, and when that didn't work I tried to fantasize about the hot ride operator, keeping my eyes firmly shut. That didn't work either and I had to sit out the extremely disagreeable incident with no assistance from my mind.
On the positive side, it was as though those wild rides violently shook loose some things inside me. Things worth getting rid of. As well as my poor crooked frame. I am full of muscle aches and hypochondria today.
For a while, The One and I have been discussing and planning our imminent life change. I can't say too much about it because I don't want to jinx it. I just want to be able to fit into my favourite clothes again. And I want to grow old with The One at my side.
We just received news from Mother that a very good family friend's little dog, who Mother was watching while Amanda visited family in Namibia has died. Spokie was the cutest and liveliest lttle dog, a Pomeranian-Chihuahua cross. She passed on this morning at the age of more than 16 human years, 126+ in dog years according to my calculations. I knew her for about 13 years, loveable little sprite that she was. Requiescat In Pace, dear little companion. We will miss you.
The One says that he is sorry he did not know her. Last night when we had dinner with Mother, he comforted her. She lay shivering on her little blanket as he touched her. Deaf and blind, her sense of smell was still functioning. She was interested in his particular scent and the places he had been.
We all knew that she was at the end of her life. We just didn't want to face death, even on such a tiny scale, once more.
Don't you find that sometimes, there simply isn't enough drink in the house to blot out all this sadness?
We have been living out of the laundy basket for the past week, just because I was lazy during our wonderful time off. In anticipation and respect of the big change, I sorted out the laundry crisis once again.
That's Alfred chewing the socks I inherited from my maternal grandmother. Those are the name tags my Aunt stitched onto the socks to stop them from going AWOL in the laundry at the old age home where much-loved Ouma Annatjie stayed. I love those socks and wear them when they are not covered with Alfred's mucus.
Tomorrow, our life change will begin.
Work also starts tomorrow. This morning when I was still in bed at 11:39, I had a dream. Back at work, Wendy had a long list of things that had gone awry because of me during this holiday.
I sincerely hope that it was really only a dream.
Written by I