Oh wait, how can you take a break when something is really all about your life?
I’ve had an interesting progression of events happen in my life during the last few weeks. OK, maybe it isn’t an interesting progression of events, maybe the very reason I think it is interesting, is because it is a remarkably boring progression of events. In my life, boring fascinates me, and fascinating bores me.
That’s a statement that probably requires fleshing out, doesn’t it? For now, just take my word for it: it’s true. I’m fascinated by many things that are generally considered mundane, and find exotic and interesting to be a bit tiresome at times.
I was supposed to returning from a two-week work trip today. I never left on the work trip, and only learned the trip was cancelled a couple of days before I would have left. The first few days after the trip was called off, I felt like I was living in a bubble, floating aimlessly. I had all this time empty, completely unscheduled! What would I do with myself? Would I eat my eyes out with frustration at how empty my life was sans work? I feared I would, so I started scheduling all kinds of things to fill the time. Then I realised that this would be my very first time to enjoy this season of “slowing down” by actually slowing down. Since I moved to London, I’ve run from one adventure to another: intense work project, buying a house, long work trip, book deadline… A couple of weeks “off” wouldn’t kill me, they might actually do me some good!
So for a whole week I slept in every morning. That meant sleeping all of about 15 minutes longer than I otherwise would have. Ha. But each morning I had a lovely time of reading, catching up on reading the Bible and a bit of spiritual devotional stuff. It was great, and I learned a lot.
But by the end of that week, I was burnt out! My brain had been working too hard during my week “off”. Meanwhile I’d started working on my podcast, so life was really rather busy, all things considered.
And then the house across the street from mine caught fire. As I walked home and smelled the smoke and saw the fire engines, I feared that I’d killed my lovely new flat. Already. I’m around the 4-month mark, and never having lived (for quite a while) anywhere longer than 4 months, it seemed about time that something go wrong. Turns out it was a building across the street, and the cause of the fire was someone growing cannabis in their flat. I don’t grow cannabis in my flat, so I hope that means I’m ok. I got home and started fixing my toilet, as if it were the most normal activity in the world.
The next day, my brain was so fried, my soul so worn down from A WHOLE WEEK OFF, that I couldn’t keep a thought in my mind for more than 20 seconds. I watched three films back-to-back, something I don’t think I’ve done since high school.
Then I came down with a cold. I usually come down with a cold when I’m working too hard, not when I’ve been taking time to sleep in every morning.
Meanwhile, I’ve had my first doctors appointments, took blood, and have scheduled an appointment with a specialist. This feels very settled-down. I’m planning on taking a weekend retreat for spiritual restoration soon. A friend is getting married after that. None of these things feel like adjusting to London, but they feel more like “real life” than I’ve felt in a long time.
This, to me, is very interesting. I still don’t feel capable of holding a thought for more than 40 seconds (yeah, slight improvement), unless it has to do with my podcast.
But by the time you read this, I’ll be heading out on a week of vacation, this time travelling to a lovely land across the seas which I call home. And the next month or two promise to be pretty busy. All this to say, the process of “adjusting to London” may have plateaued for a while, huh?