I told people over the weekend that I was done school. They thought that meant I was done my Masters. That’s not what it means. It means that I’m done for the summer, and that’s not even true. I have to edit a colleague’s paper, and then read over how she’s edited mine (but at least I have a good first draft, which is 11 pages more than I had yesterday!), and then I have to edit my ethics application, and THEN I’m really on summer vacation. Then I have 2 courses, some research, and a thesis to write, and then I’ll be done my Masters, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First I get to go on summer vacation. Granted, I’ve done lots of summer vacation things already this summer, but mentally, emotionally, and physically (I was living in Nanaimo for the most part dammit!) I have definitely not been on vacation. Jeremy can attest to that, but he probably won’t unless I’m not around, because he might be a little afraid of my reaction. I can’t say that I’ve been the most patient this month (even though I used to say that patience is for chumps, I didn’t mean that being patient with your friends or partner was chump-ish… I just meant that you shouldn’t wait to do things because waiting is dumb). I can’t say that I’ve been especially thoughtful this month (although I did knit Jeremy an entire surprise sweater, which is pretty thoughtful. And which really hurt my wrists, which makes typing 11 pages in a day hard. Dammit again). I can say that I swam almost every day this month, that I spent time with my flowers every chance I got, and that I was almost always grateful for where and how I live. You would be too, I think. Except for maybe the toilet part. I don’t think everyone would be grateful to give up their flush toilet for a bucket. I can’t think of very many who would be, actually. I certainly wasn’t initially… but I am grateful that I don’t use gallons of clean water every time I pee.
All of these things may be too much information. The sunset’s really pretty right now. I’m going for a sunset stroll. Look at the pictures. You’d be grateful to live here. Even with the bucket.