My cleaner was just a bit surprised, today, at how little of what she had cleaned last week needed cleaning again (we are still working on some bits of the house that have not had attention for "some while".
(The Holmesian suggestion that the depth of the dust is part of the filing system did not pass muster.)
There's a reason of course, and it's not because I've been doing lots of cleaning as well. Rather, that I've been doing very little of anything ever since I had my trip out, and such masterly inactivity doesn't generate that much dirt or mess.
The little patch where I have been disassembling and rearranging a small radio-control car shows how much mess I could make if I was operating at anything like normal levels: little patches of cleverly contrived order emerging from seas of surrounding chaos would be the historic norm.
This semi-hibernation is also not too bad for budgeting. My car has not had any new petrol since April, possibly since March. Shoe wear is minimal, too, and I'm hardly affected by passing seasons or fashions as far as clothes go.
Even my book-buying has dropped right off, since I cannot read for any length of time.
Yes, definitely a bright side.
To a very limited, uncomfortable and generally unsatisfactory lifestyle, seen from almost any other perspective
It is, however the lifestyle I have, so I try to see it from within the playing field I currently have to work with.
Swapping imagery, a very small canvas does not admit of massive expressive brush strokes. If a picture of some merit is to be painted on such, different techniques are required.
(And no, not exquisite miniaturism: that pushes the analogy too far, and would take far too much effort and concentration.)
Stringing a few words together, perhaps.
or a few pieces of wire, balsa and plastic.
It must be a lifestyle since I'm alive and doing it deliberately.
No comments:
Post a Comment