Macavity left for Sydney last night, I've never dreaded somebody's going away so much. It's just 2 months, but 2 months is 60+ frigging days! It seems at least one person or the other is always going away, gone, leaving, absent - to spoil that perfect time you otherwise would all have together. When somebody comes back, someone else goes away, or they all come back, and you go away, and you go back, and somebody goes away * sigh*
This whole thing made me think of Nirvana - freedom from the cycle of life and death. Now if Nirvana was all about freedom from the cycle of farewells and meetings in this lifetime, it'd definitely be more appealing to me.
Anyway, let's not dwell on murky thoughts. On to the brighter, prettier things life has to offer - check out this summer bloom outside my room -
I can actually see that from my bed, so if my head is facing the right direction, that's the first thing I'd see when I wake up in the morning. It's a very beautiful world to wake up to and I thank God for it. It makes the heat more tolerable.
Macavity & Pete's farewell party. Pete after a long time in India is also finally leaving.
See what I mean? Seems everybody's going away. But the open door here is that Pete #2 from Australia, another great friend, who we thought we had bid eternal goodbyes to, is coming back. There's always going to be a Pete around! Which is a lovely thing, since I'm fond of Petes :-) Also another funny thing is how farewell parties can be so much fun when one really hates having to let those people go. Anyway, as long as it's not like a Final farewell, I guess it's all okay.
And now, last topic of the day. Which will be me being nasty about something. Which is this flat in this apartment across ours. Which, incidentally, is the messiest and dirtiest I've seen. It's the one on the first floor, door partially open. They open that door once in a while, and I can't help but see inside. (Not intentional snooping, if I'm in the kitchen cooking, and look out the window, I see straight inside that flat, whether I want to or not).
It doesn't even look like it's lived in - from the first time I've seen inside, what I always see is a rolled up mat, on top of which is a couple of lumpy cushions, on top of which is a black, dusty as hell bean bag, on top of which is piled several dirty looking cushions again, I've actually even seen someone sit atop this pile! I must admit that the inhabitants are pretty good looking, very, very well dressed, but their house is so dirty (or maybe it's just that one room, but I doubt it) we have a name for the young son - Trawp-a - the filthy one, and the rest of the family members are Trawpa's mom and dad and sister. It's mean. But damn, you should see the house.
In my opinion, only the real poverty stricken people have any right to be dirty - could be difficult if you don't even have enough water to drink or money to buy food, much less soap and detergents. But for the rest of the normal citizens with access to running water, there just can be no excuse. I can never think too much of someone who can't even keep their own living places clean. Have you noticed 3/4 of the average shoe-wearing Indians wears them filthy? Sports shoes, smart shoes, heels, every sort of shoes - all dirty.
But why am I being a bitch and letting the dirt on other people's shoes bother me? Farewells, dirty houses, grimy shoes - whatever. I'll just join Pippa and say God's in His heaven, and all's right with the world!