I’m back in my happy place. Since I got up this morning, I’ve only spoken to two people. One was himself. The second was a chap who says his name was Boris. I picked up my phone without checking the number and answered. It was Boris. Boris wanted to sell me some financial advice. I told him I had no money. He asked if I had a job. I told him that I had no work (true today). He asked me how I paid my bills. I told him I had no bills (true, too, I paid them all yesterday). He asked me how I survived. I told him that I lived with a man. He wanted to know my relationship with this man. I told him it was none of his business. He said I should answer because he’d asked me nicely. He then suggested that I get a job because if I had a job and could pay my own bills the man might love me more. I said I wasn’t sure the man liked me right now (menopausal madness). There was a pause. I could hear Boris thinking. Then he said, triumphantly, the AHA! in his voice all too clear – You’re a hooker! I told him I didn’t care for his assumption and I was hanging up. And I did.
My village world is a small one. My interactions with others are limited by choice. I enjoy the peace, the quiet, the solitude. I appreciate stuff more. I watch the skies a lot. I like the sunsets. I notice the flowers. I see things here that I don’t have time to notice in my other world. I take pleasure in doing things I can concentrate on, like cleaning out the fridge, or ironing, or tidying out drawers and presses. I enjoy the mundane because I have little else to compete for my time. There’s nothing I have to do and nowhere I have to me.
Occasionally I step online and see what the world is doing. And if I’m lucky, social media sends me things that uplift me instead of throwing me down a spiral of despair. Today was one such day. I’m grateful.
This short film dates back to 2017 but it’s doing the rounds again – and it’s worth a watch. And if you watch it, ask yourself – how many of your days have you spent well.