A couple of days ago, something crawled up my leg in the bathroom — looked suspiciously like a flea, but I didn’t have my glasses on. Maybe our anti-flea attack hasn’t entirely succeeded. Mum said she and Dad rented a bungalow in Madras with a parquet floor, but when they walked in, they were mobbed by dog fleas. They had to clean the place thoroughly, and there was a special wax they used on the floors.
I must have reminded her of that when she said she hadn’t seen any fleas herself, though I’d been complaining for some time. I was looking carefully at the carpet (after several shampoos) and said I couldn’t see anything either… then said I should put a cat down where I was looking, and perhaps a host of black specks would appear and start converging on the cat.
Over the past weeks or months I’ve been spending more time watching TV with Mum. Sometimes I take my Toshiba laptop downstairs and set it up on the card table, but it’s not online there. Perhaps her recent bouts of sickness rattled me, and I feel guilty and lonely shut away up here. But I miss my online experience, my pictures, email friends and blog-reading. The Mac’s the best for working with pictures, though, and I can hardly lump that downstairs every night.
Sometimes I think I’m dreaming my life, not living it. I dream a novel, story, blog post, email, picture — and it’s as though I’ve already done them. Only they never are done — I just hug the thought of them to me, and feel warm because of their possibility. I dream a clean kitchen, sorted drawers, tidied bookshelves; a perfect life in which I’ve done everything right and nothing wrong. Part of me lives in a warm country, having dinner parties and going swimming and in general not worrying about anything. There is no blot on the landscape, crocodile in the river or spider in the boot. If I try any of the things I was planning, they might not work out. So I dream.
Going downstairs now, to watch Red Dwarf. Makes a change from Who Wants to be a Millionaire (though I was pleased last night because I knew the Santa Fe trail ends in Missouri! Must have read it on the internet…)
Dream a Lie by UB40. Wish I could listen to it but can’t hear anything till these aids are fixed. Another email I keep dreaming I sent!