Wednesday in the rain.

Well, I'm not actually sitting in the rain, of course, but Jesker and I were caught out in the rain earlier when I walked him, and halfway through the walk great big raindrops started to fall down on us very rapidly, and I felt I couldn't make Jesker run home, so we got wet instead. Since it wasn't cold outside, it wasn't a great hardship, and we dried up quickly enough once we were inside again. It felt like we had been abundantly blessed by an exuberant priest with holy water, except that we were liberally sprinkled on all sides.

I always say that I like the rain and I do, especially when it comes in relatively short showers and it isn't very cold outside and there is no strong wind blowing. Of course, it's not always going to be like that and I'm probably going to complain about the weather just like anybody else as the season progresses. I like lying in bed at night and hearing it rain. I should really have a tin roof so that I can hear it well, but that might proof to be too noisy. It's just a romantic notion that I have of tropical rainstorms pouring down on a pacific island village and me lying in my hut listening to the rain beat on my roof.

I don't allow myself to have many romantic notions. I know they are not so realistic to have and it's not good to walk with your head in the clouds. I try to always stay in the here and now and not have all sorts of idealized notions about how other people live in this world, because I know there is hardship all over the place. But there must be all sorts of little pleasures too and those are the ones I'd like to be in pursuit of, although that would make me a typical western tourist who only comes to pick the best of what's on offer and ignores the harshness that lies underneath everything. As if there is a Shangrila some place where only peace and harmony rule.

I pretend Shangrila is in my apartment. A man's home is his castle, after all, isn't it? I'd like to think that, when I'm inside these walls, nothing bad can happen to me and that I'm safe here, therefor my reluctance at times to go outside. Nothing should pursue me inside that's going to cause me problems, although I can't stop the mail from being delivered and the phone from ringing. Those bring intrusions that I'm not always happy about, but the system is not full proof, though I say a little prayer when I open the mailbox. I'd like to protect myself from anything negative, but I think that's the wish of anybody, though I must say that I have it down to a fine art, although at times I struggle. I think everybody needs a safe place where he knows he can relax and feel at ease and let his defenses down. Home should be the place where you can do that.

I think especially now that I live on my own with the animals, I've very much made this place my safe place, with all the objects in them being mine and having special meaning to me and making me feel welcome when I walk inside, especially the art on the walls and the books on the bookcase. It feels good to look around and think to myself that everything I look at belongs to my world and I don't have to share it with anybody, and I decide why something is where it is and how long it will be there, or if I will change it around if I were to make that decision. It feels good to have ownership of and responsibility over things, but to keep it all as simple and uncomplicated as possible.

I suppose I'm really not that good at sharing my space and very much like taking up the room all by myself. Since this is really the first time in my life that I am living on my own, it is a new experience for me and one that I'm surprisingly good at. It seems to suit me well. I like going my own way and doing my own thing and not being sociable. I like sleeping alone in my own bed in my own bedroom. What a luxury that is. I like my stuff all over the bathroom and my shoes all over the place. I like only my clothes in the closet. There's no room for somebody else's clothes. I like the fact that it's my computer and my Senseo machine.

Aren't I selfish, and I should be after all these years. It's about time, I should say. I may never share my space again with anybody. I take up more than enough room by myself.

Well, now it's time to go to bed, believe it or not. I must be a little bit sensible and I do have a good book to read. I'll put my pajamas on and make it cozy for myself with a glass of warm milk.

Goodnight you all.

Nora