Disgruntled
In travel, in holidays, in being somewhere else, there is often a point where it all becomes hopelessly and ridiculously irritating: the mild sunburn, the mosquito bite, the change in food – the need to decide when to make the big trip into town, the anxieties that one's favorite outings won't happen, the worry that one won't get a good tan or spend enough time in the ocean.
And you (yes yes, I admit it, I) stay here sullen (disgruntled, desafinado), in the apartment with the rolling shades almost all the way down to block the sun and hot air, like Achilles in his tent, being childish and annoyed and annoying, and knowing it, which makes it all even more tedious.
Last night Susan and Rob arrived, and we had a good dinner, and talking was wonderful; but afterward I couldn't sleep – at all – because of the above silly things; so this morning was completely worthless, and I determinedly slept in until one. And on top of the merely physical: the demand to do some work, which I haven't done; my annoyance with the Sitges crowds, both the ones with loud children and the flashy, muscly gay ones; the wish to wander out into that gay community, combined with annoyance at the social parameters involved (mostly related to torsos); and S & R's blithe and too skillful circumvention of all my reasons not to go the gym while I'm here....
Well, in this weather, the ideal solution: A Shower – I'm at about 4 or 5 per day at this point – perhaps one will regruntle me a bit.
[The picture – of some New Zealand athletes in Japan with sunburn – is obviously not one of me. Sigh.]
•••
Wind from the sea
A fresh wind: although the air is still hot –
I am less irritable – less out of tune. But: I am not allowed to leave the apartment until I have written 250 words – and not blogs or journals, but real academic words.
The rolling blinds go up and down: if they are two-thirds of the way down, no one can see in; if they are mostly down except one, I have a distinct light source. If one is up all the way, that breeze comes in....
•••
Freedom
Finally: I can leave now. 287 words, probably overlapping far too much with things I've already written elsewhere in this article's draft; but what the heck, they exist.
Out the door....
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