All Over The Place
A Week of This And That
Muggy Monday
I can’t find my groove. The weather is weird, I feel weird, the pack act weird. They are basically sleeping all day. Even little Puk, who usually is off on mad adventures, has been sound asleep on my bed. I dig through some of the storage bags with summer clothes. I select items for two loads of white laundry and drag a bag to the neighbours. I am immensely grateful that they let me use their washing machine. I try to minimize the use of it, as I also shower there (it is warm enough to wash in the river but somehow I haven’t yet).
I am being very decadent lately, but with good reason. I read, or heard as an audiobook was the source of this gem of wisdom, about the law of use. A friend whose father is a feng shui wiz also told me about it a while back. Stored things stagnate energy. It makes you feel stuck. So I am now making a conscious effort to use what I have. Because I have an insane collection of Lush shower gels, I am now using that to do laundry with. I did not research this in terms of cleanliness (or in any other terms and I really hope it is not clogging up the machine) but the laundry looks properly washed and smells divine. The scent also lingers much longer than any detergent I have ever used. Every time I put fresh linen on the bed or grab something from my wardrobe I am in heaven. When I have gone through my Lush stash I still have 3 liter bottles of Sukin at my disposal.
Using what I have, even if it is being slightly repurposed, does make me feel a bit better. I am not unstuck yet, though. I have no place to put things. I dream of Malm cupboards. I look on the IKEA website almost every day. Then I longingly look around in my already rather cramped room and rearrange the furniture so they would fit.
After a failed attempt to nap, I go for a walk. On the way back I notice two rose bushes by the side of the road. One white, one bright pink. They smell divine. I go home to get my cutters. I will at some point successfully propagate roses. Today is attempt number 5. Fingers crossed.
Trianon Tuesday
No words.
Wobbly Wednesday.
I can’t put it off anymore, even if I am totally skinned. I am asking my therapist for a session. All the valerian root, cordyceps and aswhagandha in the world are not going to fix this. I meditate, I walk barefoot in the grass, I sit with my bare ass on the grass, but nothing is rooting me. I am convinced all my chakras have turned deep purple, if not black by now.
Tough Thursday
I prepared myself and still I get into the car trembling. Bence is in the back of the car. I am bringing him to Targu secuiesc be picked up for his travel to Holland with Elipet. I found the service by asking around at a Facebook page for expats in Romania. They have an excellent reputation, but I am still fretting.
I picked the wrong road. It is in bad shape and windy and bendy and never ending. It takes us two and a half hours to drive 59 kilometres. I keep mumbling: this is magic if you have all the time in the world. Not when transporting a small dog on your last nerves. But, and this is a big but: WE SAW BEARS. A MUM AND THREE CUBS. They were by the road side, slowed down in case the babies would go on the road but I didn’t stop. I now regret it. One photo, from a distance. I could have done that, no?
Frazzled Friday
The pack have been outside partying all night, Margit informs me on my return. If you let those out at night, you can be sure nobody sleeps. I tell my friend who says, well you haven’t slept in a year because of everybody else’s dogs, so I wouldn’t feel bad about it. I don’t. I am just bummed out that I have to keep them indoors still, so I can sleep. I think they would be off so much better in the fresh air, then cooped up in the kitchen to be. So, again tonight I put on Katie Malua and the remaining three of the Magic Four.
I receive pictures from Elipet in the Whatsapp group. Many of the pups are asleep, but Bence is sitting up. One of his ears is flopped over. It was one of my favourite things about him. Flooping his ear back a few times a day. I feel my stomach turn a little. He looks utterly discombobulated. Poor thing. I toss and turn and again barely sleep.
Snackless Saturday
I am utterly beat. Still recovering from Thursday and Friday’s excursion to Targu secuiesc I fill up bottles to water the garden. I have been eyeing a pump, talked about it with my dad, asked a friend. But I don’t have the money for it. I have noticed that everything I want, but can’t afford right now, is making me feel more stuck than the hundreds of things I do have, but don’t use. I have a light bulb moment, that could be utterly wrong. But I decide I don’t need anything. If I can’t afford a pump and I am too tired and it takes too long to water the garden by hand, then fuck it. The garden has to go wild. Because the same goes for weeding. I need a new smaller trimmer or get my kick ass mower fixed (I have the spare parts but the guy in the village who can fix it seems permanently tipsy). Without that I can’t keep up. The watering and the weeding combined make me feel stressed. I did not start a garden to be stressed. I intend to apply this to everything else I am panicking over. If I can’t afford it, I don’t need it. Except for snacks. I do very much need those.
I post the decision on Instagram with a picture of an already quite overgrown garden. A friend kindly responds: Carve out a manageable spot and tend to that. You don’t have to ditch it all. She is right. I finally have fresh coriander and I am not giving up on that.
Just as I am about to go back inside for another coffee Margit is hanging over my fence. If I can come help, turn the hay with Momma and Feri. Ironically, after recognizing my limits, I say yes. Which means that around eleven I walk to the end of the village to the field, to find Feri sitting under a tree. The hay is not dry enough yet. I say I will come back in an hour. I take the hour to clear out the shed. I could barely walk in there, and somehow I am now suddenly in the mood to tackle that. When I return to the field Feri announces he is going home. But then Margit and Iboyo show up. We wait under a tree, again. In the end we do turn the hay. And then wait some more, to see if Feri will come back with the tractor to finish the rest. I have spent more time waiting than turning, and I get home a little grumpy. And very hungry.
Fuck me. I will never decide to go on a sugar, meat, alcohol free diet again, when I am in the middle of challenges. I never learn. The last time this happened was really not that long ago. Only a few weeks back I went to Oarba, where my old house is, to start emptying out the shipping container. When I got back I had no food in the house. With “no food” I mean no easy access snacky things. I am thinking of olives, dried Mangalitza sausage, truffle crisps and big chunks of cheese. I have none of those, so I eat veggy curry, nibble on raw carrots and have rice crackers with my ginger tea. None of it satisfies. My friend asks what I am doing. I keep looking in the fridge to see if its contents have magically changed.
Sunday Snooze
I wake up. Nauseous, sweaty panic. It is not five yet but the babies are up. I go outside, let them out and we all have a wee in the garden. I cuddle them and then go back inside to make coffee. I want to cry. I am beyond exhausted and it just isn’t funny anymore. When will I sleep?
I drink my coffee in bed and watch the video I received of little Bence bonding with his neighbour Guido. I want to stay in bed all day but feel bad about that. I go outside and fill up water bottles for my little patch of chosen plants, while the rest is left to fend for themselves.
In some miraculous way, I notice that Choccy is the only dog who is outside. The babies are in the kitchen-to-be. Muki and Stella are in the living room. This never happens, but as I have promised Choccy for weeks now that I will take her out for a walk, I make a split decision. My fear was bordering on agoraphobia, when it comes to dog walking. I am terrified of my neighbours dog, I am scared of bears. But here we go. We come back, tail wagging (both of us) and I am schlepping a large branch to cut up for firewood. I miss the freedom I felt last year, wandering deep into the woods, picking mushrooms. I don’t think I will ever get that back, but what we managed today is a start. A good start.
Eva invites me over for a coffee. We sit in the little wooden house her dad built. It needs to go, she says. She wants to make space for a bigger terrace with an outdoor kitchen. It is for sale. Do you want to buy it? You said you also really needed some covered outdoor space…
Oh crap.