Manual

Something I have noticed since moving here: I don't mind the manual labor so much.

I'm not digging ditches, nothing like that, but the things that I thought I could never do without I am doing without. I don't mind washing the dishes. I don't cry over hanging clothes out to dry. I shred my own cheese, I chop my own vegetables. I make my own sandwich fillings, it's crazy like that.

Before I would've been searching in vain for pre-packaged, pre-shredded, pre-anything, and now I'm fine with it taking a bit longer. I notice that even when there are times I miss the mega super duper pooper scooper stores, there is some weird joy in having to search. For example, last week I went to an ironmonger (which is their word for hardware store) that specialized in doors, door hinges, and all things necessary for a door to open and/or close. Down the street was the other ironmonger, that held sets of screws and nails. And it all lives together like that, happy for some reason.

I also yesterday pronouced basil as they do here, which is baz-ill, so I guess I'm transitioning.

Now if you don't mind me, I have to go dig that ditch that I hadn't dug before.