The Intensity of a Boring Life

I cannot believe it's Friday already—not in the TGIF way, but rather in the it-was-only-Monday-yesterday way. If you had asked me this morning what day of the week it was, I would have answered, or even enthusiastically shouted: Wednesday!—and I would have been very, very wrong.

And yet, nothing particularly exciting has happened. Can you imagine? It’s been a week of a thoroughly mundane life. I did nine loads of laundry. Don’t ask me how one person can accumulate so much to wash—it just happened. Laundry has its own growth mindset. It is meant to always be in progress, always reiterating, never fully done. The only people who don’t have any dirty clothes or linens to wash are dead people. There, I said it.

This week, my hyperfocus landed on laundry, which also means I don’t want to touch a washing machine for at least the next few weeks.

Another thing happened—I rearranged the entire apartment. The only place left untouched was the kitchen, simply because it is difficult to move. But the rest… my oh my. I juggled a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe like a strongwoman in a circus. It took me seven hours to turn everything upside down. Thankfully, my hyperfocus didn’t abandon me in the middle of the process. The next day, I wasn’t sure whether I was more exhausted or more grateful that Stabi offers a very flexible hybrid work model. (Shameless plug: SPK is hiring.)

A friend visited, and we ate cabbage. How Polish of us.

I went to the office and gathered all the tea. My colleagues took me out for lunch and later to a supermarket to buy coffee beans and nine litres of water—a mundane adventure, but along the way, we discussed workers’ rights and how to take parental leave even on a time-limited contract. Later that day, I had a conversation about my future with my boss, and it was a good one.

I avoided waking up and falling asleep with politics. It still stresses me out, but at least it no longer overwhelms me.

The dog keeps watching the world through the window. I catch myself watching him watch the world through the window. I remember how, for the first few months, every time I left the flat, he would stand on the kitchen table and see me out. His head, with those too-big ears, looked like a bat. Recently, I took him for a check-up. The vet said he’s a senior dog now. A senior dog? How? I only got him yesterday.

And all of a sudden, it’s Friday.

Thank you for reading, have a lovely weekend!

Wiktoria

PS. In the music corner this week, Jean Sibelius under Susanna Mälkki.