Today I woke up defiant.
Clamping the eyes shut after last night's late movie on SBS (The Birthday, Swedish, e-recommended)
I slept, the best in 2 weeks, and all thanks to a hearty dose of Cortisone.
I woke before the alarm went off.
Waiting for the water to be of non-shocking temperature (A ritual now, no matter how drunk, tired, drowsy. I had insisted on getting a two-valve mixer, instead of the more convenient single lever mixer. I called it aesthetic beauty, I feel that the single mixer is very late-80s.)
I contemplated-
About work, about being right, about pleasing oneself, about what will make my next 30 years in the work-world bearable.
So I turned the water off and went back to bed.

Diagnosis: Boredom
Prescription: Piano lessons
Prognosis: Grim

I felt an urge to do something.
As I was driving to work yesterday
I thought of learning music again.
Twelve years of hour-long classes, ABRSM exams, and arpegios left me hating Scarletti, and resentful that I could not play Ravel or Bach.
Perfect pitch is no good when you can't make music.

***

" It is true that that on bright days we are happy. This is true because the sun on the eyelids effects chemical changes in the body. The sun also diminishes the pupils to pinpricks, letting the light in less. When we can hardly see we are most likely to fall in love. Nothing is commoner in summer than love... "
Lives of Saints, taken from The World and Other Places, Jeanette Winterson.