Many years ago, a child who had rapidly decreasing vision was considered lucky to be sent to a sanatorium, where for a month the child would be fed vitamin cocktails and pills and subjected to less pleasant procedures, some involving electricity. Should the child be very young and attached to its home and family, there would be lots of crying and pleading for mercy, but nothing would prevent it from being abandoned in a town an hour’s ride away from home. Such a child would develop a deep aversion to discos, for one thing, because those would happen on the only day the parents would come visit, and signal their departure.
For such a child, any distraction would be welcome. My mother once suggested to me (for I was this exact kind of child) that I should keep a diary during the month, and share the details of my life away from home with her upon my return. How does one keep a diary, I asked, and she explained that I was to write down the things that happened to me every day. She gave me a very nice notebook, and a month later the diary, kept faithfully to the surprise of all involved, looked like this throughout: “I woke up. I had breakfast. I had my procedures. I had classes. I had lunch. I had free time. I had dinner. I had an evening program. I wrote in my diary. I went to bed.”
These days such things seemed to be a fashionable meme, judging by the amount of “dailies”, “hourlies”, etc. cropping up all over the WWW. At any rate, if this was considered a remedy against loneliness when I was seven, why not try it when I am twenty-three, and my husband has once again left me to my own devices for a week. (If you were wondering, my procedures still include electrocution: the stove is not grounded, so washing the dishes can be rather piquant if one does not pay attention.) So, without further ado, today.
7.42 Woke up to see what the cats had broken (nothing, just thrashing about), went back to bed.
9.19 Got up after just two ‘snoozes’. Realized it was Friday, while I’d thought it was Thursday, so I’d missed Danish last night for no reason.
10.23 Walked out of the house, skipped my morning walk to school for fear of being late.*
11.05 Lithuanian literature class: presentations. Mine was on Vilnius: City of Strangers. Called it a bunch of beautiful lies, alarmed the lecturer, stood my ground.
12.45 Shopping for E.’s birthday present at the Contemporary Arts’ Centre Shop. Got blue things.
14.00 Coffee and games with I. and E. For the password ‘Eminem with my coffee’ I. and I got free M&M’s cookies: Customer Day at the Coffee Inn.
15.00 Came to work. Freaked out about possible declaration of property, studied the entire field of tax collection via internet banking, found out it wash’t applicable to me after all. Lunch: ginger tea, icky salad, muesli bar.
17.00 Left work, got on a bus, started suffocating, got off, walked home listening to music.
17.35 Got home, put away the dishes, started a load of laundry, sorted the previous load, made a deal with myself to spend the entire time of the laundry cycle working on my thesis.
20.15 Got up from the thesis having written just a couple pages but hunted down a bunch of articles and not been distracted.
20.20 Hung up the laundry, which had bundled itself handily inside a fitted sheet, solving the problem of carrying a crumbling pile of wet socks from the kitchen to the bathroom. Incidentally: how the heck does one hang a fitted sheet to dry?
20.46 Cleaned kitties’ litter, comforted Lorca who is upset because they’re fighting all the time and Oscar keeps winning, agonized over their neutering, for which there is need, but not time or money.
20.55 Dinner: orange juice, bagels and a fancy hard cheese bought on a whim and not very good. Cats don’t like orange juice, but cheese got them interested. Gave each their own lump, they fought over both, tried to separate them, they lost interest.
21.15 Made survey for participants of recent seminar.
21.50 Reading LJ and RSS. From here on it’s lazy time, this post, Flight of the Conchords, Neopets (I’ve been playing it for nine and a half years now), Project Runway and more orange juice.
*What I wrote originally was, ‘for fear of being afraid’, which is a lovely bit of recursion if I do say so myself.