Poor James is sick.
Which lead me to think about the blog entry I kept meaning to write and forgetting about. Basically, Sunday's lunch involved a lot of discussion about his house, its furnishings, and landscaping.
And it is bizarre to think that I have reached the grand old age of 28 without really ever dealing with any of this myself. Sure, I bought a bookcase and desk and sulked my way through refinishing some iron bedposts before my second year of university. However, aside from two university shared houses, I have always lived in furnished accomodation. Oh, I suppose there was the Ikea purchases with Alan, which I was required to make myself (am not half bad at furniture construction, apparently, as I do like to read the instructions and follow the pictures, and the damn desk turned out to be lopsided due to the uneven floor. though a hammer would have been greatly apprecieated during construction). But, basically, furniture purchasing and thoughts about landscaping, or nice kitchen stools, or cars have just not been part of my adulthood.
Which is not to say I feel any less adult. While I am sure your average idiot could figure out how to live life in Korea, not everyone could do so and find a way to like it. And I do not so bad at the whole dealing-with-life-in-a-foreign-language-i-don't-speak. Even dealing with a lovely round of pneumonia and a very dodgy ankle. I have now lived in three different countries with three very different cultures and I think it has done me a fair amount of good. And taught me some miming skills that I expect one day to come in handy in competitive games of charades.
But it certainly seems like the ultimate in grown-up-ness to own a house and have to maintain the bugger. And perhaps to learn to drive... One of these years, anyways...
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