I’m a bit bored.
Maybe it takes longer to unwind than I suspected. I’ve done (pretty much) nothing but lounge around and read like a fiend for 2 whole days but yet this feeling of weird detachment persists.
The sun has been shining, with the exception of one downpour day, nonstop for 6 weeks. Have you any idea how unprecedented that is in this part of Sweden? Everyone seems to be gobsmacked with summer delirium, gulping great swallows of the perfect air, knowing it won’t last, feeling like it’s a dream, determined to get every ounce of joy out of it.
Yesterday, half the houses in the village were flying bright blue and yellow flags for Sweden’s National Day. It was really quiet around here, and I guess most Swedes were at the beach or their summer houses, or picnicking somewhere. With my family gone to a Scout camp all weekend, and the cover on the pool, even with the sun beating down serenely, I feel lethargic and mute.
Watering the plants in the early evening makes me happy, but I don’t have any real desire to be outside a lot otherwise. Apart from the damage it does to my eyes, I’m content to adore it from the chair where I sit devouring the fifth in the series of books I’m beginning to wish would never end. It’s aggravating and saddening to think that I have already read so many of this author’s books and that, because she passed away in 2001, there aren’t any more coming.
I have thought about, and discarded, several times, the idea of starting a project; however, I made the decision and am sticking to it, that this is not a weekend for doing anything. After the strenuous and disturbing craziness of the first part of this year, I am well aware that I really need this downtime, but I don’t seem to be made in such a way as to laze about in my sarong and sunglasses while the cabana boy fans me with palm leaves by the pool.
Of course, it would probably be a lot easier if there WAS a cabana boy. Alas, he is camping, and even if he were here, the suggestion that he get busy fanning me with palm leaves would certainly engender a hairy eyeball or two.
I actually DO have one commitment tomorrow morning: our last choir concert of the season, which is taking place during a church service. We’re singing several songs in Latin: Agnus Dei, Benedictus, Virgo Gloriosa, Kyrie and one in Swedish. I love singing in churches because the acoustics are so wonderful, but this particular church is so extremely modern and square and sixties-furnished that it feels very soulless to me. But it’s only an hour and then I’m pretty much extracurricular-obligation-free for the summer months, barring a few AWC events, so it doesn’t feel like much of a commitment for this quiet, sluggish weekend.
Really, honestly, I don’t know why I’m writing this or why you’re reading it. Gah. Not only bored, but boring.