I know when I am going to move! My cousin’s wife is handing in the keys July 6. We’re waiting to hear from the landlord as to when we’re going to be able to move in, how much the rent will be etc. I’m now going to have to start going through my stuff and hoiking all that is superfluous/unwanted/doesn’t fit/is broken etc. Start packing books 🙂 Hand in my notice here and ring a removalist.
Things going well, we will get to move in that same week, because the week AFTER I’m supposed to be in Sydney for the week for an international art & painting conference, painting my butt off.
It’s Monday afternoon here, on a long weekend. And I’m suffering that God-awful Melancholic Sunday Afternoon feeling. Restless, dissatisfied, heavy. That same ‘dying’ feeling experienced in the soul at sundown, at autumn, and the rising of the moon. The opposite to that blo0ming feeling of the soul at daybreak and spring. Hate that. I feel old. I ask myself “how did I GET this old? When did that happen?” Tell myself “I can’t turn the clock back … how fucking sad”. Sunday thoughts on a Monday afternoon.
But, soon I will have a piano.