Drying in the sun
Yesterday was the first day warm enough to spend outdoors without a jacket. I trimmed the overgrown hedge in my front garden and pumped air into my bicycle tyres, grateful for not having to exercise my brain on a weekend.
Today was the first day that I dare to hang my laundry outdoors. 15 degrees Celsius spelled "Indian Summer" in English. Suddenly all those cold and grey days spent indoors vanished into thin air. It was worth it after all.
My neighbour observed that October and February were the worst months for her. October marked end of the summer, while February reenforced the length and depth of the dreary winter. I couldn't agree more. Getting through the shortest month means we're halfway through the winter.
Today I saw my sixth architect, a kind man I met at the private viewing a few evenings before. He offered to visit my home because he did not like to see a creative person being tormented. Indeed, I was burdened by the non-converging advice of five architects, two window fitters, and two builders, on top of what I learned from the Internet and the local council's planning department.
Some things take a long time to prepare. Others take a long time to cook. Decisions that are irreversible, or cost a lot to undo, can take a long time to make. In my case, I realised in February that the way out of my vicious circle was to make my environment more conducive to creativity. This means more light, more space, and more comfort -- a place I can relax rather than a place to transit between trips.
And so, after weeks of noodling on how to go about extending my hobbit hole, I decided to let it dry in the sun.
24 March 2002 Sunday