Monday, July 21, 2008
I am not in Pangani
Today its like this:
I am perforated several ways.
Must sell the book, find a distributor, find a freighter, do the admin, decide on the launch
Have new paying gig - hoorah! writing a book on the UN in Malawi. Starts Monday. Shh, no more than that, don't wanna jinx it.
Must do something about chaos of domestic sphere. Need cupboards. Magazines proliferate in piles on the floor. Biology experiments flourish in the fridge. My love has a bad junk shop habit. The kind where he brings stuff home, not the kind where stuff leaves the house. "Look darling it was only R10." Thats er, thats great. Um, what is it? I am neither domestic goddess nor house elf. And yet I crave order. We tried having rules - as long as its books and music, that's fine. If 5 new books come into the house, 5 old ones must go. If it hasn't been worn in two years, it must go. The rules are gathering dust under a pile of collectable fridge magnets. My girlfriends are jealous coz he's such a tolerant shopper. Tolerant? He's vigorous. Patient? He's persistent. He has more shoes than I do! I leave for Malawi in less than a week and right now I'm not sure I could find my passport if the house was burning down.
Wish I was drifting down the Pangani river watching hollow coconut shells play dodgems in the eddies.