Simple simple today. All's well here. Basically this farm is the most beautiful place in the world and there are more dead (and alive) flies in our bedroom than I care to go into. WWOOFing is the stuff– putting down our backpacks in our semi-permanent residence after carrying those weights for months was the proverbial taking the bra off at the end of the day. I know not of anything better.
Because it's September and because I'm an angsty Anne, I've begun applying for jobs for when we return to the Bay, and it's been...tough? tedious? mostly the worst? The question of careers has felt like a persistent rain cloud, following me any and everywhere for the past year or so, and this trip has been such a welcome relief from the anxiety that the question always provokes. I've been happily not thinking about what the next step entails since May, and this week of refining my resume and searching for open roles and emailing my network felt like I was trudging through a thick sludge of procrastination and apathy. This can be contributed to many factors, the most pressing of which being that thinking so much about different possibilities two or three months from now doesn't leave a lot of room for the substance of Spain. And I suppose I'm just not ready to let that substance be watered down yet.
There's a fiesta happening at the farm house today (which is to say that there are full on speakers set up for what I can only assume is inevitably turning into an open mic night?). Don't take my word for it, though; last week when I tried to order a coke from a bar, I accidentally ordered cocaine. So, you know.