03 June 2004
keep the aspidistra flying
My days have become aspidistra, the official plant of the State of Everyday Things.
There are baby bottles and language lessons, weekends spent sailing with my host family or on dates with my boyfriend.
I don't send postcards, although I ought, and I don't study vocabulary flashcards, although I should.
I take baths and watch Mtv, hang laundry and cook.
There has been no art, no production. I've been taking care of the bottom level of the Pyramid of Needs.
I'm still a little paranoid that the host parents will stomp into my room and on my heart, deciding that they don't like me anymore, that I should pack up and clear out by the time the children get home from school.
But that's just the residual effect from nannying in London.
I leave next week for the States.
The coast of Rhode Island, specifically.
There I'll sell off my remaining worldly goods.
There friends will come over to barbeque tofu dogs. We'll slather ourselves with suntan lotion and wear too-big sunglasses and talk about boys and feel glamorous.
Then Maui.
There my brother will get married at a sunset ceremony on the beach.
There we'll climb volcanoes and blow bubbles with fish. The backs of our calves will burn because that's where we always forget to apply sunscreen.
Then Las Vegas.
Perhaps.
There we'll gamble and ogle the people cranking the slot machines.
Perhaps.
There other things.
Perhaps.
betholindo at 12:03