I moved a few weeks ago – I can see the sea now, if I stand on a stool, and the stool itself is balanced on a stack n’ store box – with the lid on – coz the lid adds that critical 2cm you understand.
Thing is . . . . I have no internet, which at first seemed horrible.
Disconnected, unable to converse, comment, catch-up.
After 10 days or so, I had lost that ‘must check the ‘phone ‘pull‘ that sits continuously in an already over-cluttered mind; then I noticed that the Nokia was starting to be left in my work coat pocket, along with the car keys, and anything else that wouldn’t be needed for evening life.
The next day I go to work – allegedly there is WiFi there – (actually the WiFi is stunningly speedy out on the pavement – and next-to-useless in the building, where I teach just about everything ‘tech’ – a surreal dichotomy.)
At some point in the day I’ll see if I’ve missed anything . . . . . . you know what? I haven’t – I really, seriously haven’t.
I might become connected at home in the next 2 weeks, so doubtless I’ll revert back to the drudgery – but feeling the move from ‘must‘ to ‘it doesn’t matter, really‘ was so, so interesting.