Toenails and Boxes

Well I finally got down to clipping my toenails. It’s been something I’ve been telling myself to do since I lost one (right foot, middle toe) about a week ago. That’s the second time it’s happened. I’m not quite sure why it came off either time, but I suspect that the length of my toenail had given some other stationary object the leverage to pull it straight off the toe. I hadn’t realised it had come off until it began to hurt. A very confused younger brother found the missing toenail a couple of days later. I kept it for a while until my mum decided to throw it away herself because it was, admittedly, quite gross.

Since then I’d been telling myself to get the other 9 trimmed less history should repeat itself.

So where is today’s entry leading to?

I’m not quite sure myself. What I am sure of is that things are getting a bit boring around here. Don’t get me wrong, S____ is hardly the backwaters of the world. There’s plenty of shopping, dining, drinking and clubbing opportunities available and it’s a lot cheaper than most other cities so one can do lots of all four.

I’ve been back in S____ for about six weeks now and I’ve fallen into a comfortable routine of work, SDD&C. With any luck, tomorrow I’ll decide which gym will benefit from a large chunk of my pay. I’m signing on to take Japanese language classes twice a week (but that only starts next year). There’s also a variety of media out there that can entertain or educate or both. Given a few more months’ pay, I’ll be able to take a holiday somewhere nice.

But that’s not quite enough is it?

A good friend of mine has finally found a place and will be moving out of her parents’ next month. (Yes, I still live with mine. It’s a pretty common thing among the cultures in these parts.) We had actually planned to be housemates until I realised that I wouldn’t be able to afford it. (That’s a lie really. I currently pay my parents rent but it seems ok as the money stays within the family. So it’s like not paying rent at all.)

I guess the question is would I be having a lot more fun if I moved out?

It’s a tricky one. My parents haven’t put any restraints on me and they pretty much respect my space. There’s any number of people out there who don’t live with their parents but who aren’t leading lives any more exciting than mine. Despite that, I suspect they’re a lot better off that way. Maybe it’s not that they get to do more, maybe the satisfaction is inherent in the physical independence of the parental unit.

I’ll just keep an eye out for a good flatshare offer for now. It at least gives me a diversion when I’m bogged down by bureaucratic bullshit at work and need space to breathe.

I do like my work. It’s an industry I’ve (surprisingly) come to be fond of, and it’s gratifying to know that what I’ve studied isn’t going to waste, and that the Boss has enough confidence in me to entrust me with some pretty big responsibilities. My colleagues are young-ish and very nice people. The team’s almost like a family.

But I am starting to dislike my SM. It’s not hate, it’s just passive disapproval that’s getting stronger with each working day. My SM is really not the sort of person I’d want to be stuck with in a social situation, but I can deal with her on a professional level. It’s just that she tends to limit her liability at the expense of yours truly.

I’ll just attribute it to her really small brain. (My SM has peculiarly small head, hence the inability to think outside of the proverbial box is a particularly serious problem for her.)

Ah well.

I just finished reading Neil Gaiman’s “Anansi Boys”. I think I liked it. It definitely was nowhere as good as “Good Omens” or “Neverwhere”, or even “American Gods”. I’ll give it some time and read it again before I decide on how I feel about it.

I’m terribly sorry that this post hasn’t been half as interesting as its predecessors. I’ll come up with something better next time, promise.