Relax is a personal thing
Some people I know relax washing their car.
Others go out to drink. Or spend a day on the Net. Or file their nails.
Having decided to relax doing garden work I spent a good deal of the morning and part of the afternoon kneeling on our balcony in the middle of a mess made of scattered weed, vases, fresh and old earth..and of course the plants! [will have to remember to post some pictures of them]
Beside raising the cat's ire (she hates being ignored) this brought us a more ordered (and cleaner, too)
balcony, some hopes for the plants survival and helped soothing my fury after, out of 3 phone calls to the Foundation where I should do my service, none was either useful or even finished. I so hate to get dumped from an office to another just to discover that no-one is there or that it was the wrong office or that the person I should speak to "was there a moment ago, we don't know where s/he might be now, call later/don't call-we'll call you back".
Plus I had just been confirmed that this sunday's menu will be the same old boring thing.Blah.
I should probably take one of these fabled anger management classes. At least to avoid the embarrass of spitting obscenities at an innocent phone. :-P
Oh, the plants!
They were, like, green and green and green. And now the sad, dirty south balcony has three mandarin(supposedly, I really don't remember what those seeds were exactly) sprouts, a very happy ananas, two mini red roses and two vases where cat grass(catnip?) should grow soon, my empty room has a small, widdle ivy and another red rose and the northern balcony has a not-so-small rosemary that I really hope will survive. Because its predecessors didn't make it and emptying a vase because its occupant is dead is one of the few things that can make me cry like a child.
But for now everything smells of fresh hope and muddy earth.