I must say that after an additional day of holiday (Friday), it feels really good. Weekends should be three instead of two days then everyone would probably rose on Monday feeling much better and happier instead of the usual grumpiness and complaints. I do have a standard answer to whenever being asked how my weekend was – it’s not long enough. Not that the additional day was eventful or anything like that, just catching up on extra rest and sleep. The whole week was spent preparing for the pitch work and among many other things – all work of course.
Whenever I am given a day off, I will ensure that afternoon nap is in place. There’s just something reassuring and comforting about the thought of going to bed with the sun blazing in the sky/outside while your room is cool and shady, it’s what dreams are made of. It is probably the reason why I am so in love with the thoughts and memory of beachside holiday escapade. It’s not so much the destination or anything like that that matters but just the thought of sand, sea and the wonderful open space feeling. It is also the feeling that you are so close to them and you can literally fall asleep and feeling them on your skin. Of course staying at a fabulous and cozy resort makes all the difference. I am not talking about mass produced hotels and things like that.
There’s also something wonderful about those small, personalized boutique resorts that is so warm, comforting and welcoming. The way they played with space, the natural daylight and weaving in it’s natural surrounding – I swear I can die happy just flipping those giant coffee table book and literally wet my pants.
For years, I have been sleeping with a view of the back alley serenaded by the feline mating music and though where I am now is much much better than before (at least I get to see the sky), it is still not enough. I really would love an obstructed view of the skies; I live for the sky and the trees even though 90% of my time, I am just too busy to indulge in that kind of thinking but rather spend it on worrying about other 101 things.
As I grow older, I am beginning to feel this unexplainable longing to really have a place to call my own. No, it’s not that I am escaping from my parents or anything like that. It’s just that it would be place where you can really let your hair down, do whatever you want to without reporting to anyone and a place that you will feel excited driving home to on a Friday night without any plans but just to laze around, eating ice cream and watching TV.
I think we all have a mental and emotional picture of what constitute home – some say they feel most at home when they are shopping or doing this or that. To me, it’s just a place that I can rest and sleep in peaceful and beautiful surrounding. So far, I have yet to find that place and even if I find it, I don’t think I can afford anything at this point of my life. But imagination is a wonderful and powerful gift. One can always dream of that fabulous long and wide balcony surrounded by wonderful green vegetation, the sky light in the bathroom, the big and open kitchen for friends and family and so on. It’s abit sad that one have to find the habitat solace in their mind but somehow this so called home which is equivalent to castles in the air isn’t half as bad. It has plenty of room for improvement and doesn’t really cost a leg or an arm. Best part of all, it keeps you going and moving – one day perhaps I will stop looking and renting and eventually find a place to buy a place or life that I can call my own.