And then. Life.

"What you need to do," the taxi driver looks back at me through his rear view mirror and nods "... is find yourself a rich man.

Then you no have to go to work...!"

He chuckles, and grins revealing a gap in his front teeth.

"And then", he says, "you get yourself pregnant. You make yourself a million dollars."

I stifle a half repulsed giggle.
He is Italian, the crucifix dangling from the rear view mirror. I cannot find it in myself to let him know I am not in the least maternal. Nor the least bit inclined to be a gold digger.

"So do you know any then?" I quip back to him, laughing as our car speeds across the bridge.

I am late for work again this morning, the alarm not waking me from my slumber until almost 7:00. Dashing around the Gorgeous's flat, trying to iron and makeup, hair, shoes, hastily gather up bedsheets and pillows from the sofa where I have slept the last few months and be out the door quarter to eight.

The Gorgeous always says to me *Stay current, Lady*.
And so I am struggling to find a routine amidst all this uncertainty; it is when I step away and start looking at the big picture that the doubts start chipping away at my sanity, when my impatience overtakes rationality.
When I am too hard on myself and wonder why my life still feels far too fluid for my liking, it is hard to remind myself that I have been back only 4 short months. When all those dreams and adventures I came back for have been left somewhere on a shelf, now it is time to dust them off and make them real again. Amelia fixes me with a long hard stare and questions why my writing has not yet materialised into something more, why my focus has been on anything but my dreams for far too long.

I need my own space, need to see past those insecurities and fears that kept me surrounded by friends and flatmates since I left the Ex 3 years ago, need to be able to feel comfortable being alone, not be afraid of silence and my own company.
Now the confirmation I will be on my own, a brightly lit studio in the West End amongst diversity and colourful acceptance, just 3 blocks from the beach.

I am making a list of all that I need then, for this new sanctuary and space, I feel as if I am making a wedding list. I am having to start from scratch, I own very little these days thanks not only to the move but to the moving company who have lost my freight and with it, all my furniture and paintings.

cheesegrater
blender
wineglasses
duvet
pillows

It is only when I look it over do I realise my own randomness.


martini glasses
corkscrew
champagne flutes
ice cube trays

(At least I have my priorities straight...)

sofa
bedframe
cutlery
dishes


It is all fairly overwhelming, rushing through IKEA today with the Nurse, all my indecisiveness laid bare. It takes me 45 minutes to decide on cutlery and less than 5, on my limited budget, to choose a sofa. My bedframe bought on a whim passing a Granville street store, it is identical to the one I lost in the move. Colour schemes are now taking shape, I lose myself in daydreams of cream textiles and bright cushions, a Japanese screen to seperate living space from my sleep space and where am I to find that *Breakfast at Tiffany's* movie poster...

I order my Mac, work overtime every night, pack myself back into a suitcare to housesit for a friend for a few weeks. Get called into that fabulous company yet again for yet another interview for a role I know, this time, is perfect for me, at their offices a few short blocks from my new flat.

Life is never static, its only consistency its fluidity, its viscosity constantly weaving and bending. Yet somehow, now, I feel as if I am almost there. That life is about to deliver up the gifts I have been waiting my whole life for, that for the first time life will start to speak a language I can understand.