In dubio: chillax

For almost a year I've had the sword of Damocles of a certain deadline hanging over me: September 17, when I would have to submit the master thesis for my MBA. Well, since I have not even started writing, I knew it would be a very intense summer. The advantage of meeting that deadline would be that I would be done with it this year already. Last week I made my decision: I want a proper summer, spent outside and not in front of my laptop. Life > Labour and academic honours. I knew we had (at least) one semester of grace anyway and what was the rush? I don't receive a scholarship or need this degree for work, but I am doing it for...erm, fun I guess. So, I've made up my mind that I won't be the antisocial person who says "no" to any invites over the summer, but my usual sociable self and will use the darker "indoor" months to write a thesis nobody will ever read anyway. 

 

Couple Goals

Yesterday we came back from 7 wonderful days in the U.K., the vacation I had gifted Highflyer on Christmas 2019. Back then, we had known one another a little more than 4 months and had never actually spent more than 2 nights in a row together. Somehow, though, we both strongly believed that this was "it". What I didn't know was that already that Christmas he briefly toyed with the idea of proposing to me and then hatched the plan to do it in Liverpool or perhaps (discreetly, not as a P.A.) in the plane on the way there. Well, the pandemic had other plans for us, but he went ahead with the proposal in May 2020 anyway and so we did our "Beatles tour" three years later, as a married couple who still gets on so well with each other its's borderline tacky. As a friend once told me when I was unhappy in love (or what I thought it resembled) and tried to make unfit scenarios fit, finding reasons for the object of my desire not writing to me (very stressed at work, alien abduction...the usual): "You'll see. If he's the right one he'll treat you with respect no matter how stressed he is, will respond immediately, be polite and won't play any games." Back then I nodded and didn't want to dwell on this ideal specimen as it was embarrassing to compare this utopia to my sad status quo. She was 100% right of course and I wonder why I was ever willing to settle for any less.

Community

When you're officially (older even than) middle-aged, you have most likely either built up a robust circle of friends or decided that you are the person who doesn't need friends. I definitely fall into the first category, but it's interesting that you still end up making new bonds with people, some of whom are friend material. Case in point, my MBA programme where some of the group (including myself) had their last module last week. We all felt pretty nostalgic when we went our separate ways on Saturday afternoon and are determined to stay in touch and organise regular meetups. Let's see how this will actually work out and if someone will take the lead, but regardless of whether I'll manage to submit my thesis in time (nervous cough) or remember anything from the horrible "financial KPI content" we covered last semester, expanding my network was definitely a very positive outcome.

Privileged

The newspapers are full of survey results saying that a shocking amount of (employed) people in this country are close to the poverty line and cannot afford electricity and grocery bills any more due to inflation, etc. I am obviously not oblivious to rising costs, but in all honesty am mostly unaffected by them and can still afford to run two households, heat my apartment (Highflyer is in charge of utility bills in his house, I am for my flat), keep a car, buy all the things I want way beyond what I just need, go on vacation...you name it. I feel extremely privileged more than ever. I have always donated regularly to various charities, but in the past it was mostly for causes far away, say, people in a war zone or victims of some other catastrophe, but this literally hits home and makes you think whether the person sitting on the bus next to you on the way to work (!) might be struggling to make ends meet.

Spaced Out

I have mentioned the anarchist approach to gardening I took when I first claimed the little plot in Highflyer's garden that has become my "lab" for green experiments of all sorts. Well, over the past 3 years I became slightly more organised and systematic, tore out weeds and was less generous with the seeds I sowed, giving the green creatures a little more space to grow and develop. Like so many topics that are only interesting for insiders - sourdough bread, the Thermomix Cult as I call it (and I still have no intention of joining it), children if you don't have any yourself, to name just a few - gardening is endlessly boring for the uninitiated, but totally satisfying for the ones who have seen the fruits of their labour. It is tempting to  expand my operation and grow more things, but elderly relatives who basically would not leave their house during the summer months for fear of thunderstorms or draughts that could potentially wreak havoc on their "plantation" remain a cautionary tale and I want to keep my beach-towel-sized patch in order to became a slave of the garden.