The tribulations in other peoples’ lives give me perspective on my own. Ma is running around like the proverbial headless chicken dealing with end-of-term chaos. Scratch is taking care of a post-surgery aunt who lives in a horrid hovel. Dad and Susan just survived trans-continental migration and are trying to get settled. Others are reporting various medical traumas, both major and minor. Some who say they care can hardly be bothered to check in at all. (You know who you are.)
I finally saw Shibuya with my own eyes last night and while it’s certainly not Zen, it is quieter and darker than it used to be. That doesn’t seem to have affected the number of strangely dressed young peacocks on the prowl for adventures. (Friday night! Party, party!) I made it all the way from NHK to the station without my head exploding, and that’s a first.
Work is crazy right now and there are still fewer trains running, so they’re crowded and slow. It takes longer to get where I have to go, and there are still a bazillion stairs to climb. The paper said we’re requested to cut back a further 15% on home power consumption this summer. I don’t see how we can cut back much more; we’re shunning the oven, unplugging everything we’re not using, stumbling around in the dark. I feel guilty every time I run the washing machine but really don’t want to forego clean underwear.
We are also being encouraged not to have cherry blossom viewing parties this year as we’re supposed to be in a “meditative” mood. Huh. I’m going to one on Tuesday anyway, but it’s an indoor, ladies only affair, so perhaps nobody will notice that we are not as Zen as we ought to be.
Got my tax refund today. There is cause for joy in Mudville after all.