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.