I started writing. A list sneaks out, of how I spend my time - singing, Italian, crocheting, seeing friends, talking to family, but it all seemed so ordinary and boring. Nothing much new going on.
Which is good. But it all seemed so boring. Not to myself, but to the hapless reader.
But I feel tired, - not so much tired as having lower energy levels - which seems related to getting older. It is easier to crochet, and to read, and to listen to music. To play CDs. There are so many of them that I doubt I could listen to very many of them before the edge of the mortal coil is reached. At least I have plenty to read, or to re-read. I keep buying books, both new and second-hand. The local second hand market usually has books as well as lots of DVDs, and it is amazing what can be found. And my, how the finds can fritter away the time.
Discarding books (or at least attempting to do so), is a laborious and time-consuming activity. One must be reasonably certain that the decision to weed books is sound, and not merely due to tiredness or aggravation. I need to be pretty sure that I will never want to read this or that ever again. There is now more room on the shelves. That situation will not last...
I will be spending a week with my children, grandchildren, sisters, brothers, grandchildren and our descendants. And if I get my act together, it would be good to see old friends.
A couple of weeks ago I drove to Canberra, to attend the 40th anniversary of the medium density housing complex where my family and I used to live. On my journey from Sydney, I had a flat tyre, which was so scary. The steering was shuddering and I had no idea why. I phoned the NRMA Roadside Help, and had to wait for three hours before help arrived, and then had to spend time getting the new tyre put on. It put me off highway driving.
At the anniversary celebrations there were lots of old friends and neighbours, many of whom still live there. It was so good to see them all, and to find that despite the years which have elapsed since I left and moved here to live with Dr P, the friendships and linkages were still there.
My son and grandchildren and I walked all around the complex, looking at the communal gardens, the plant growth, the things which have stayed the same and the things that have changed. Flocks of white cockatoos still abound: noisy birds that they are! At the Community Centre, there were quite a few speeches which covered the origins, construction, the communal building of brick paths all throughout, how we managed to get a communal swimming pool, and a communal vegetable garden. I used my iPad to videotape the speeches and to take lots of photos, and the screeching of the cockatoos continued throughout.
I hope to visit again and to keep up at least some of the renewed friendships.