Nothing to Write Home About

I planned well, I suppose. I finished the yoga retreat in Spain and left myself a week before heading to the States to visit my family. A whole week just to chill and “get things done” (in sabbatical terms.)

Like I went to the osteopath to do something about my stiff neck. I’ll go to the doctor on Thursday to see about a new and bizarre lump under my skin (probably nothing, but weird enough to want to get checked out). I washed my clothes and I have time to pack. I changed the sheets on the bed and washed them. I started tomatoes inside. I brought in wood for the fireplace. I’ve been studying German in the mornings. I’ll go see some old friends play in Zürich on Wednesday.

It’s one of those periods, though, that are easily forgotten. In the movies, this period are the ellipsis that go “Five years later…” Life happens in those ellipsis. Three little dots where most of our lives are spent, between moments of action, great happiness or sadness.

The weather was grey and depressing yesterday, but today it’s sunny and I’ll go for a walk. My partner is out tonight and I will try to motivate to go to the local yoga class. It’s more about meeting people here than doing the yoga, which is pretty boring.

I just brought Foro next to the computer with me to keep me company. I have an alarm set to start on German in a few minutes, so I don’t sit here writing about nothing for too long.

In general, though, there’s nothing to say. It’s just a period with little life things that we tend to forget about. Nothing to write home about.