Why do I spend so much time thinking about men? There’s the ex that I’m almost over, the ex ex who is still driving me crazy and the potential future ex who I am flirting with at the moment. To be honest, it’s a waste of good creative time. I have a load of jewellery to glaze today and a manuscript to revise before sending it off to a publisher.
This morning there are remnants of last night’s dinner party, like a note to self, ‘tidy your expectations and move on’. Excess gluten-free vegan delicacies on unwashed plates. A trail of ants lead to the fruit salad. Wall to wall camping mattresses and rumpled blankets in the loungeroom and La Dina sitting amongst the debris trying to navigate a video-editting program on her laptop. Jewelpunk migrated upstairs sometime during the night and the only trace of El Eco is the abandoned guitar in the corner. I also discover that my crush has disappeared.
Perhaps I could have played it differently but I was off balance when La Dina suggested the sleepover in our communal space. My idea of a sleepover wasn’t so inclusive.
It began with making yoghurt. As soon as I start heating the milk at the same time as my housemates are in the throes of fake-duck wraps and smoothy preparation, my instincts kick in. This is not the right moment. But forward momentum overtakes logic and before I know it I am speeding toward destiny. I pour the tepid liquid into a jar and wrap it in a teatowel, hoping that I don’t offend La Dina beyond forgiveness. My technique for maintaining the temperature until the milk coagulates into a more digestible substance is simple. I embalm the jar in a few more layers then place it in my bed until it’s ready. The lid needs to be tightly screwed on. Except this time I am using a jar that has a clip-down lid and requires a rubber seal that I do not have.
This morning I am at one with myself. I will go and glaze my pieces and make time for editing my story. The universe has left me a clear message. Wet spots in the bed can spoil a good night’s sleep.