Yaramaz Went Away

I did sleep last night. I’m not sure when the book fell out of my hand but I do know it wasn’t 3am like the other night. Lola woke me at 6 for breakfat by biting my ankles and dragging me to her food bowl. I fell back asleep til 8am, which seemed to be a reasonable compromise. I feel better than I did yesterday. Mind you, yesterday was chockablock with idiots and crisis management and damage control and a disappointing late-lunch sandwich from Atom Tost and the discovery that I was down to one lone English Breakfast teabag in my desk-box. Apparently everyone in the school helps themselves to my teabags and pens and notepaper and whatever else I havent hidden away.  But today is better: my pen is still on my desk where I left it last night; I only had one oral test waiting for me as I walked in the door this morning; at Kahve Dunyas when I was waiting for my takeaway cappuccino, they had set out a bowl of their marvellous dark/milk/white chocolate covered espresso beans on the Waiting For Take Away table.   I picked up a icingless havuçlu kek from Karafrn and so had a rectangle of dry but decent carrot cake to go with my cappuccino at my desk after I oral tested the lovely and quite fluent Mr Nejat Tarhan. 

So today is good.

I am currently in a mood itching to go back to Canada. I have dreams of waking in the side-garage bedroom, looking out onto the rainy back garden, rain pounding on the roof, slowing easing myself upstairs for a lazy strong coffee on one of the sofas, with a stack of books/newspapers/magazines at hand.  More rain, more calm, no damage control, no crisis aversion, no body-swelling heat. And family. It will be good to have that again.

Note the very recent birth of Emily the Leo with Leo rising and Aquarius moon
I now have one more family member to drink tea with, as soon as she can hold a sippy cup.

 I got an email yesterday from an ex colleague who had returned to his home country not long ago after working a short summer contract with us. About six hours after he got home,  first thing in the morning, his wife of many, many years asked him for a divorce.  It came as a huge shock. Not long after that, perhaps still in a daze, he seriously burned his hand on the frying pan. When he went to the doctor, the doctor told him he could have either painkillers for the hand or painkillers for the emotional anguish he was feeling but not both. He chose to keep the physical pain and to numb the emotional.  This got me thinking. I do think would have chosen the physical painkillers because I am quite good at living with emotional pain. Emotional pain is not pleasurable but it has a certain exquisite fragility that feels almost transcendant.  Physical pain is just distracting. I didn’t write or think anything creative during the month after my car crash last year.