Food for thought

I wonder if the prehistoric man wiped his nose. It is a question that has been bothering me for days now. I don't even know how that started. Must've been a random thought that grew out of control.
It is a valid question, though. .... I think.
I look at people today and every time even the slightest drop of liquid tries to leave their nose and the napkin, handkerchief or whatever comes to hand is used to wipe it. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule and those people make me wonder. Did the prehistoric man think to wipe his nose or did he let all that snot run down his face, posibly even swallow some of it, by mistake or intentionally, after deciding it is quite delicious.
If they wiped their noses, what exactly did they use? Leaves? Tree bark? Animal skins?  Dirt? Their hands, like some more civilized people do nowadays? Anything is possible.
I am afraid to imagine what they did when they caught a cold.  Besides occasionally dying for lack of medical treatment. What did their faces look like with all that gooey stuff all over their beard ( they did have actively growing hair on their faces, being prehistoric and all),  on their chest ( also covered in hair), on their hands ( do I need to say it? ... HAIR).
I hate my imagination so much sometimes. Why can't it leave me alone? Wahy can't I be dumb so I can not care about stupid things like wiping my nose?

Did I mention, there's graphic content in the text? No? Sorry. I thought i did. Big sorry.

Silence is golden

 

I don’t get why some people feel the need  to talk. I mean, they are afraid to allow a single second of their lives without talking about something or the other. I know people who can talk for hours, about various things, about the same thing over and over. It doesn’t matter what about. The important fact is that they do not shut up. As is they are afraid of silence.  

I don’t think silence is anything bad. On the contrary. I could live for days without talking to anyone. I would just mind my business in peace and I will be okay at the end of the day. Or week. Or month. It doesn't mean I am upset with someone if I don’t talk when they talk to me. It only means I don’t feel like talking.

My mom always gets mad at me when she wants me to tell her how my day was, for example, and I mumble something then go do something else. It doesn't matter if it was a good day or a bad one, if you do not feel like talking there is nothing anyone can do to make you talk. Mom is one of those people who can talk for hours.

It happens, on lucky days, to be able to hide away from the world, working in the garden or just taking a walk up the hills, when the only time I would speak is meeting one of my cats or the ducks. Or just speaking to a plant I especially like. A word or two. I know how it sounds. Lonely. Pathetic. Stupid, maybe? Don’t think so. I am well aware they will not answer and me talking to them means nothing else but giving my thought a voice. For one moment. Then back to silence. To listening to the world around you while your brain is a stormy sea, each wave a thought, bigger and stronger with every second you spend on each of them.

There are two types of silence for me. One, if you’re lucky enough to ever get to that stage, is when your mind is clear and you can just enjoy being. The other is when you want to be alone with your thoughts, when you need to think things through and do some cleaning in your head. There’s a lot of dust piling up during a day.

Of course I like taking to people. Certain people. There are times when you can ask me anything and I will talk and talk without restriction. For about half an hour or so. Unless I really , really enjoy the other person’s company. However, I find more pleasure in listening to other people and if I have an opinion I might speak out, I might also keep it to myself. Because I value my silence more.

There is so little peace in our lives nowadays.

Stream of consciousness (1)

I had so many things on my mind this week I simply cannot list them all. Every time I saw something a new thought was born, a new thought that would eat away at my brain until a newer thought came along and replaced the now old thought. It is exhausting sometimes. It keeps me up at night. Literally. I cannot sleep properly. Someone I know, she teaches biology, says it is because of the unusual weather at this time of the year, that our bodies suffer because nature is not healthy. I am not the only one with insomnia, it seems but I think the causes for my problem run deeper than just a poor adjustment to weather fluctuations. I also know people who are just fine because they don’t spend that much energy on thinking. They just do things, let the animal part of our being run the show and all they are concerned with is food, shelter and reproduction. That is why they are happy. Because they don’t need much to be happy. Whereas, us over-thinking people always need more, always have to overcomplicate things that are in fact very simple.

Humans experience all sorts of emotions in a lifetime, depending on the type of life they are leading. Some people will never know what love is, what being alone feels like, what having a family is like, what hunger is, what having too much looks like. A simple mind will never thing about those things they don’t have because they have no idea how life is with those things. And they will be happy. Of sorts. There are , however, those people who will always wonder what would it be like if the situation were different, if they had this or that thing, if they lived here or there, if they  knew him or her, even if they never had any of it.

All this begs the question: why the hell do we want more that we can carry? Why the need to be more than what you already are? Why can’t we just be contend with the little we got (a little that for some is quite a lot) and be happy already? And, if we are in the existential questions category, why are we so unhappy when all the so called improvements to our way of living are supposed to make our lives better instead of more miserable with every passing day?

Of course I want more. Who doesn’t? More clothes, more desert, more friends, more love, more everything.  I want it. You want it. Everyone wants it. Can’t have it. It is my firm belief, if we had everything, we would immediately find something to want, to be ahead of the person next to us, to be better.

The sad part is that all we want is palpable things. We don’t want stuff we cannot see. What use is knowledge if you cannot display it in a golden case? What good will intelligence and a rich imagination do if we cannot sell it; show it off somehow for everyone to marvel at?

You know what? I want things I cannot touch. I want information. It will not help me much to know what a person I haven’t talked to in a while is doing. It will not change the course of my life, it will not kill the virus I am fighting, but I still want to know. I want to know they are okay, they are happy, they are where they want to be and they have everything they need. That knowledge would make me happy, even if for just a second. Have you noticed that when you are sad and you find out someone you care about is okay, somehow things seem better all of a sudden? I feel sorry for those who are happy when they learn someone is in trouble. They say things like “I am glad I am not the only one who is miserable.” I have done it a few times and I feel sorry for myself for needing that to make myself feel better. As if it ever helps. When I cross the street, I sometimes wait until there is someone else crossing with me because, is a car speeds by it will hit us both/all. Stupid, right? Don’t know why I am doing it but I do it almost every time I need to cross a street. Almost.

 

Thinking too much can hurt, I think.

That is why so many just don’t. That is why those people will live longer than over-thinkers. Because they are not in pain all the time, because their dreams are simple; because their sleep is not disturbed by endless hours of thinking about how to make the world a better place, for themselves and fro those around.

Even if I know I will die in pain, I don’t want to be a mindless robot without any real expectations beyond food, shelter and procreation. Maybe I am wrong, maybe those three things are the only things that matter. Maybe that is why all the cultures of the ancient world, after creating so many wonderful things, died. Maybe it is better to be stupid.

 

Some thoughts about loss.

Losing someone always hurts.

It hurts the mother when her little girls grow up and don’t need you anymore. There is a sense of pride in that, they can take care of themselves now but it hurts all the same because they are no longer your little girls.  It hurts when your baby leaves the nest, ready to fly the dangerous winds of life on her own.

Losing someone you love (keep in mind, there are many types of love) hurts because you lose a part of yourself, however small, because once you had that part, without it life will never be the same. You cry like an idiot, you hope like an idiot, as you watch the thing you love die in front of you. You are powerless to stop Nature. Nature cannot be stopped. Nature can sometimes be prevented.

Our addiction to other human beings is deadly. Our addiction to companionship of any kind is toxic. It drives you insane; it eats you from inside out. It makes no sense. We are very capable of doing everything by ourselves yet we insist on having someone to help us.

Losing something you never had hurts even more because whatever you will do, you will never have that thing.

Loss is inevitable. It is the way of Nature. People come and go. We are careless.

Loss, even for a short while, hurts.

Think about it before you take anything for granted. Or not.

New season/at the doctor’s

At the beginning of February an old fever of mine started to burn. Cross stitching. I love it , I just don’t have much time nor an excuse to spend hours hunched back over a piece of canvas, a needle and a lot of colored threads. I found the perfect excuse in making tokens for March 1^st.  This country of mine has this custom on the first day of March to give small tokens (broaches, but mostly useless plastic or metal or cloth tokens) accompanied by a red and white tread that is tied in a bow. ( I have the feeling I have mentioned it once before, not long ago.) On March 8^th, when it’s the International Day of Women, or something like that, at school and everywhere women get gifts in the form of flowers, chocolates, whatever. I dread these days. I dreaded them when I was little when I had to give my teachers tokens and gifts, I dread it now when there are chances to get one, the other or both. I simply dread going to school because I know there is a chance I will get into one of these awkward situation where I will hove no idea how to respond. I am good at faking emotion and surprise, but behind all those smiles  there is only dismay and horror. My mind screams HELP ME!!!! from all my being. Luckily, the custom is fading in our parts, but not entirely so the danger still exists. I cannot help but feel uncomfortable in such situations.

I know, I know. Am I crazy? Free stuff. How can I not be happy about it? My mom tells me all the time. She if of the opinion that if someone choses to give you something for free you must take it. I suppose she is right and I try to think like her when it happens but it doesn’t make it any easier.

I distributed handmade tokens myself today. I made them. Put my soul into them and gave them a value beyond commercial. (though I am perfectly capable of selling them because I do a pretty good job, I might add)

Today was easy. Little awkwardness because, in recent years, the custom to give boys/men tokens on march 1^st grew strong. I only gave to my teachers  (who are now, strangely enough, my co-workers) to the headmistresses and everyone I consider friend, more or less (the definition of friend is a tad different with me)

 I fear the next Tuesday when its march 8^th. I just don’t want to think about it.

**
Because I have been feeling this unpleasant, not too powerful but recurring pain inside my left ear I decided to visit the school nurse and ask her about it. She said it could be an infection and that I should pay my doctor a visit. So I did, after I finished classes at three. The waiting room had a few people in it, among them an old lady, a mother and her son, man and two little girls or around 6, a boy from 12^th grade and some other people that came and went. My hope was to get out of there by 4 because I wanted to catch the bus home. The next would come at 7 in the evening, after me waiting for hours in the station.

Anyway, I went in, I sat down and , to pass the time, because I get bored very easily, I started reading a book on my phone. Olivia Munn’s SUCK IT, WONDER WOMAN! is the title. Fun book to read .  during the chapter about the robot invasion I had to stop reading because I was starting to lough to loudly and soon I would draw unwanted attention. They others were still recovering from listening to one of those girl’s screams of agony and despair and her declaration, upon exiting the doctor’s office, to never come back again. They gave her a vaccine with a small needle that doesn’t hurt a bit. We cannot mess with the power of a little girl’s fear, however. Never. Ever.

The 12^th grade boy left at one point because everyone was going in before him, even those that came after. I supposes he was trying to be polite a few times and let a lady go in first but the situation must’ve gotten over his head because he seemed rather upset when he left. And he was right. When you go to a doctor in a small town like this be prepared to wait forever because there are some people who think they must go first even if there is a dying man waiting to be admitted. The category consists mainly of old ladies who are supposedly so tired and sick they cannot possibly wait a few minutes, officials from the town hall that are too important to wait, and gypsies who, if you do not give them priority in everything, start yelling they are being discriminated and play the victim card. That is why I missed my 4 o’clock bus. That and the fact that the doctor takes too much time with explanations no one really understands.

Also at the doctor’s, a woman came in at one point and after a few minutes with talking with everyone else she turned to me – I like to stay outside people’ s line of sight to avoid such encounters – and said “ Ah, Stella! I almost didn’t recognize you.” (Which is funny because I haven’t changed much in the last 14 years of my life. ) She said she had heard I am working at school now, asked me how that is. How I am. What I’ve been doing. I answered, politely, to all her questions, smiled and everything, all the while wondering who the hell was she. I don’t remember my highschool mates that well by name but I think I would remember a face. Perhaps I met her in a different capacity, I just have no idea. Happens all the time with me , for people to talk to me as if they know me and for  me to pretend that I know them, but sometimes it’s just downright annoying.

Never mind that. It happens, we move on, hope to never meet again that person.

At 4.30 I finally got my face to face with the doctor. He used that thingy to look inside my ear, decided it is an infection and gave me a prescription. I left, bought a few things from the grocery/bakery then went to the bus station fully aware it was gonna take a while until I would get home. And it did take a while. Luckily, the bus station is right across the street from a restaurant with Wi-Fi. I have the password from a girl I know and I was able to not be bored by the waiting. Much.

 I almost forgot about the date and about what is coming. Which is good. Too much stress.

Gotta go to the pharmacy tomorrow to get my prescription because by the time I left the doctor’s  all two pharmacies in our town were long closed. Because no one needs medicine after 4 p.m. in this town.

Truth is, everything sucks sometimes.

 

A day off

I was awake long before the alarm rang. Thinking about stuff. Also with a sharp pain in my left side. I have a terrible bed and that happens from time to time. I sort of fix the problem by putting a small pillow under my lower back. It straightens the spine and I feel better. Don’t fall back asleep though. I just can’t. once I am fully awake it is very hard to. I think about things. Sometimes just let the mind wonder on its own and I am surprised to see where it goes. I try to form a series thought: how to distribute time for the day’s tasks. They are not many and are pretty simple. Plenty of tome to do absolutely nothing in between them. I think about how the postman brought the TV-guide I am subscribed to school and they lost it. Not that I use it that much. But I did not like to ask them for it. Especially when I see their puzzled looks. What am I talking about? Or the leave-me-alone-, -I- have-more-important-things-to-do-than-keep-track-of-your-things look. I had an arrangement with the postman. He leaves the magazine at the post office, when it arrives on Wednesday, and I go pick it up on Friday. Simple as that.

Because it is Monday morning, a car drives up the road at 6.25 then down five minutes later. Don’t know why, I am assuming to pick somebody up. Or something. Anyway, it is like clockwork – every Monday, same hour.

Then an alarm clock rings and my sister turns on the TV at 6.30.  My alarm is supposed to ring at 6. 45. Who cares? I lazily rise from the bed. Sit on the edge for a few minutes. Eyes closed, half closed, almost wide open. No hurry. It is funny that after waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to g back to sleep, five minutes before you have to wake up your body suddenly decides it is a good idea to start wanting to sleep. Happens every time. Not much we can do about it.

Soon, I hurry a lot because I have got a bus to catch. Big day today. I moved my classes to Thursday so I can have a full free day. And not see anyone I don’t want to see. Which is pretty much everybody I know. it is my day and I want to spend it the way I like it. Free of everyone. Only happens once a year. Am I asking for too much? … thought so.

In any case, the plan is the following: go to the city, go to depot outside town to check out building materials for repairing roof, find at said depot interesting plants and take them with you, or just seeds, go shopping in supermarket no. 1 and leave the bags in one of the luggage boxes so I don’t have to carry them with me all over town (they are heavy), go to supermarket no. 2 and 3, and return with luggage to no. 1 then go back to wandering the town for other things on the list. In the end, return in the vicinity of no. 1 and go to the dentist. Hurray!! Day is almost over, can go home now.

Did all those things, in that order. It was very wearisome. All worth it.

Did I mention it is my b-day?  Well, it was, on the day of the trip. Did I mention I wanted to not see anyone on that day? I didn’t. sort of. In no. 1 I met a former student. She finished highschool last year. She was in my favorite class ever. There will be no other groups of people I will like more. I was in the gardening section looking at some plants. Didn’t see her. She saw me. Otherwise I would have never seen her . I am so careless sometimes. All the time. It was nice to see her, especially because she had no idea about the b-day thing. I do keep it a secret. Oh got, it would’ve been so awkward for me. She would have had to tell me happy b-day and I would have had to say something in return. Like it happened today. It feels so wrong. Don’t know why, I am just wired that way. It was a nice surprise. She said it herself, the next day, when she learned the secret. I may have released the date on fb. Hence the influx of “Happy b-days” during the day. (Mom is my friend on fb and she followed the event from home. She was more excited about it than I was, I think. Oohh, all those people wishing me stuff.. such an important event. (sounded very mean in my head, don't know if I sent that in writing as well) ) That is why the secret was no longer a secret but at least I didn’t have to interact directly with any of them. Naturally, I thanked everyone – it was like a duty that needed to be done a.s.a.p. I get this problem with all my social networks interactions. If someone comments, I need to answer somehow. It is a duty. It is common sense. It is being polite.

Listening to Sia right now. My sis’s has her playing. Not really helping with my writing.

Anyway…

Remember when I said I really want a Ficus Benjamina? I was hoping to find one on my trip. Hope dies last. You also know how things never go according to plan and instead of a Benjamina you end us buying an exquisite Phalenopsis orchid. They were just sitting there, winking at me with those eyes of them. I just couldn’t resist. I have had orchids before and I love them. Now I wonder if I should give up my idea of the second ficus. It does take up a lot of space which I do not have. Then again, many of my plants take up a lot of space I do not have.

 

I was mighty glad to talk to an old college mate of mine. Also via fb. (I suppose it is good for something after all, it is just poorly used by limited people) Haven’t seen her in five years. I would not have wanted to see her face to face because that entails many touchy-feely formalities and I was never like that. Everybody knows it. I just don’t know how to respond, that is all.

First and eight of march is coming up so, naturally, the market and all shops were full of spring tokens. Those little objects with a red and white string tied in a bow. I made some myself this year, in needlepoint. Will give to some of my co-workers, bosses. I rarely do things like this and it felt stupid to buy stupid looking tokens when I am perfectly capable to make amazing ones. From my point of view , anyway.

I walked a lot on Monday. The dentist’s appointment was at 4 in the afternoon and I walked from 8.30 am to 3.45 pm. With those brief ten minutes at the depot when I got something to eat and sat down at the table. Those people have really good food. That chicken schnitzel with cabbage salad was amazing. And it kept my hunger at bay all day because, like an idiot, I forgot to eat before going in at the dentist even if I knew I would not be allowed to eat for two hours after she finished with me. (some drilling into a pair of teeth that need to be covered with fake teeth. First, she has to clean the dead parts and it will take a while to do that right. No matter, I don’t know why but I love it. The drilling is a bit unpleasant because it shakes everything in your head but…)

I spent half an hour before the bus came reading and interesting story by E. Caldwell. Rachel. Did not see that ending coming.

##

Every year it gets stranger and stranger to me, this day.

The other day, one of my former teachers, now co-worker, asked me ho old I am. I told her I will be 29 soon and she said it is a beautiful age, that I am still young and it is nice.

The problem is, I do not feel young. I never have. There was a time when I was young, when my body was, at any rate. My mind, however, rarely felt it.

I don’t know why. It just doesn't. I do not claim superior wisdom from an early age. Heaven knows, I am yet to achieve that, if ever, but I never felt the same like my classmates in school. I was never attracted to things that should attract a young mind.

I was never young to begin with...

Sounds terribly depressing , doesn’t it?

Well, it is. To some extent. I don’t see why we celebrate the passing of another year of our existence. It is only one step closer to our death, not that people should think about this very often, and a reminder that another year has passed without doing something meaningful with our lives.

I have this neighbor, former classmate of mine, whose father is obsessed about having a lot of animals. And by animals I do not mean a few chicken but lots of cows, pigs and a useless horse. She has to do all the work with those animals, feed them, clean the stalls, give them water, and between these activities must also cook a thousand courses a day because eating the same thing twice in  the same day will kill you. She tells me all this , every single day. One can say we are the only people she can talk to openly about it, to unload a day’s worth of misery. Then, like clockwork, every year in July she celebrates her b-day inviting most of the neighbors and some members of the family from the village. I am not sure how much this occasion makes her happy but she will never not celebrate and I do not understand why.

I have stopped marking this day publicly along time ago and the less people know about it, the better. I am not sure my former classmate remembers the date. She would have said something. I am terribly fortunate this year that I won’t have to meet anyone who might know. All the people I met on Monday were either strangers or ones that had no idea.

I bought a few cakes to share with my mom and my sister when I got home. And a bottle of sangria - a compromise for not finding my favorite wine. I don't know what is happening but I am unable to find it for months. it is beginning to get on my nerves, this situation. So this is how I celebrated. it was enough. Moving on.

Working at a school, I get to meet a lot of young humans and it has been a great opportunity to observe them , to learn things about what it is like to be young like them. It frightens me at times when I realize I was never like that. What I am is really good at pretending to be something I am not. It is the only way to survive in my world. For now, anyway. Times change. We must evolve with them and that is not easy for someone who would prefer to turn back time to an age where things were …. I don’t know  what to say here.  I was going to say ‘easier’ but things were never easy. In the world of humans, things are never simple. If they turn out to be simple, humans will make sure they will not be for long.

 On the other hand, the same working with people has given me an opportunity to learn to be a better member of the society, to learn to behave, to be, to interact with other people. I think... not sure it produces many results because there are very few people in this world I like and admire. Very, very few. 

My phone battery was almost dying when I got on the bus so I put on my headphones and let Loreena McKennit drive my imagination to wherever it wanted to go. I was awake the whole ride, to my surprise. I was holding the orchid in my arms because I didn't want it to fall and get hurt. As the bus came out of town, on top of a hill ,I saw the moon and I remembered it was full today. I watched it all the way thinking the were-creatures would be out and about if they existed.

Then I fell asleep almost immediately after I got into bed, a few hours later, after watching The Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, which only reminded me humans are horrible. They can be good too, however, so there is some hope.
 

Randomness

I went to the county capital a few days ago with my mom. She was going to go alone because she felt it was time to visit her favorite hairdresser for a trim and a curl or two. I was gonna go later in the week because I needed to pay the internet and phone bill. I know what you’re thinking, I can do that online. Yes, I could. But I don’t want to. It is one of my excuses to go to the city once in a while. It is bad enough that I started ordering plants online. In my defense, most of those bulbs cannot be found in a regular shop. Nor can the seeds. I do a lot on online shopping for plants but when I need a pot, a saucer or hope to find that ficus Benjamina I want, I need to go myself, to touch the pots, to feel them, to talk to the old lady selling her interesting plants at the market and ask her about them , about  what they need to thrive. There’s a feeling of assurance when you learn things directly from a person who experienced them  first-hand.

In the end, I asked mom to take me with her, like old times. When I was little , she had to go to the city many times because her work at school required it. I would sometimes beg to be dragged with her, I would patiently wait until she finished the important stuff then we went shopping. The best memory, though, was getting up early in the morning, at 4.30 to catch the 5.00 bus (hated it then, I hate it now), going on the smelly bus and stopping a few dozen meters away from a pastry shop. It was about 6 when we arrived, the place was just opening and the still steaming sweet cheese pie and the whipped yoghurt simply melted in my mouth. It has been years since I had one of those dream breakfasts. Unfortunately, the place is now closed. The building abandoned.

While mom went to the hairdresser,  I went to a store outside town to get a ceramic pot, in the shape of a somewhat large coffee cup, I had seen the week before and could not stop thinking about it. I know exactly what I will plant in it. Then, I wondered the market until I found the perfect cloth for kitchen curtains. I have been looking for that for a long, long time. Cannot wait to start cutting and sewing. All handmade, the way I like things.

Waiting for the bus, I remembered the old times when there were only three of four busses that ran towards home in a day. Because they were rare,  and people seemed to rely more on them in the past, on account of not having cars, it was an adventure to get a good seat in that bus. And by good seat I mean any seat at all. People crowded at the door and tried to get all at the same time inside, carrying  huge bags of shopping. Mom always told me to keep close but I would always get lost in the crowd because people don’t really care a child could get squished between them as long as they get a spot on the bus, be it standing or seating. After the big battle, mom came to get me and everything was fine. We stood all the way to or from the city many times, though. Because the busses were already full when it came into the station. Ahhh. Good times. I survived them. Didn’t make me like humans any more than I already don’t.

If I could, I would choose to live in a remote area where your closest neighbor is at least a few kilometers away from your house. Perhaps I have had a bad experience with people so far. It is rather far fetched, though, because that would mean all people are bad and I refuse to believe that.  I know it is not true because I have met a few that are really, really nice. I don’t particularly want to spend much time with them , however, because I would not know how to behave properly around them. I think. I like the thought that they exist, that hope lives on in spite of the mean world I am looking at right now. The same mean world that made that pastry shop go out of business. The same mean world that thinks a cat trapped in a store for two weeks,  is a funny thing (like the news I saw the other day on TV). There is nothing funny about dying of starvation. Why don’t they try it, for a change?
I can’t do that unfortunately. I have to share fences with horrible people who do  not  even speak to us. There isn’t much I can say about tit without turning to profanity. I don’t use profane words, ever. I replace them with regular words and use the tone for swearing. I just cannot bring myself to use such words. Don’t know why. There was a time when I did. I was little, I was a feisty little thing and then, who knows when, everything changed. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I suppose I cannot do or say something to someone I do not want done or said to me by someone else. It is a very good rule. Too few people  follow it.

I digress. A lot.

When I came home, on that day, do not recall the exact circumstances, I remembered someone I know saying how cute her sister’s kids are. And I wondered. How can people find children cute? I cannot stand looking at them, I hate it when they touch me, I hate it even more when they are trying to be affectionate. It is said they can feel one’s love. Why can’t they tell I do not want anything to do with them? I would much rather pet a dirty old duck.

I don’t mind people as long as they keep a safe distance.

With that in mind, I look forwards to my next visit into town. They have been building all sorts of useful places in my hometown, like the much needed proper vet's office or the recently opened plants' pharmacy but nothing compared to a visit to the big town where I can find almost everything I want /need. That is why I look forward to my next visit on Monday. a lot of plant related shopping and a visit to the dentist that I am actually excited about.