I started a load of laundry at around 7:15am. Fahim had already left for work a few minutes before.
I suspect that, what with him getting out of bed at 4am, or shortly thereafter, and then doing the usual grooming and dressing and eating activities which bring him to 5 am so he can start his fast, then playing on his computer until he goes to work, even with me getting up at anywhere between 6 and 6:30, he’s getting pickin’ bored in the morning.
And that is a run on sentence that even Fahim may be proud of, although he may decide it has too many logical clauses, they all actually go together, it makes sense, and there’s only one topic in the sentence, so perhaps it doesn’t really qualify as a proper run on sentence after all, especially to the ones Fahim write, cuz heaven knows Fahim can do really good ones – I kinda laugh at him, ya know, cuz he’s supposed to be a writer and yet he has all these terrible and long drawnout run on sentences all over the place, if you know what I mean, which you would if you’ve ever read anything of his, which you would have if you knew him before you knew me, cuz about the only way he seems to keep in contact with people is through his blog, which he writes, of course, cuz, after all, who’s going to write it for him if he doesn’t write it for himself, which he seems perfectly capable of doing, at least most of the time anyway, especially if he’s awake and alert, which he is most of the time, just not during Ramadan when he becomes really really sleep deprived, and we all know sleep deprivation can be a very very bad thing, right?
Back in high school, in my English class as taught by Mr. Terry Stitt (Ross Shephard High School, Edmonton, Alberta), who has to be my all-time favorite teacher, we had to do an assignment that was, shall we say, at least somewhat unorthodox. He had us write something like 250 or 500 words of a run-on sentence. One sentence. Mine was a work of art, I tell you. Unfortunately, I have no idea where it went. Drat. It was also a fun assignment. But then, Mr Stitt was always giving us fun assignments. It’s too bad he’s retired now. He was that teacher – the one you remember with fondness.
Mr Stitt, if you ever read this, know this. You were my most favoritest teacher ever. You were fantastic. Ms Nichols, on the other hand, bit. As in, she bit the big one.
Back to Fahim. Because, after all, my world clearly revolves around him.
I suspect that he leaves for work that early just so he can play on the computer or have other things to occupy his mind.
I say suspect because Fahim has grown increasingly quiet recently. I suspect that it’s because he’s tired. He’s really starting to look and act tired.
But to nap outside of sleep hours? Nope, he can’t do it. Well, he could, but he won’t. Because to do so would break the spirit of the fast, which is to remind him how much he has, how much other people don’t have, and to instill appreciation for what he does have. Okay, those are my words and my interpretation. While in some countries it’s common to sleep all day and party and gorge all night, Fahim feels that that is contrary to the spirit of the fast. I can accept this as a reasonable conclusion.
So I let him be tired and non-responsive and even a little bitchy. Yes, Fahim has gotten a little bitchy, too. Irritable. Whiny. Not a lot, just a little, but it’s there. And there’s no point in my pointing this out to him because it would only increase his bitchiness.
Back to laundry. So I started a load right after Fahim left for work. I’d already showered and dressed, so why not get on with it?
I plunked in a load of sheets and towels.
Before the load even finished, the power went off. So that would make it somewhere around or before 8am. It’s now 11am, and the power is still off.
I have two batteries with yon laptop. One started at 100%. The other one was sitting at 65%, which I didn’t know until I swapped it in. It must have been drained from the last power outage and I just didn’t finish (or even start?) charging it back up. Oh.
So now I’m down to a grand total of 22% battery power remaining.
In an effort to be productive and yet conserve battery power, I elected to do some cleaning. In other words, some non-computer based activities. I scrubbed my stovetop, including the burner fittings – the copper cleans very nicely in vinegar – even coconut toddy vinegar. How very nice. I swept a couple of rooms – oh, and how much hair piles up? It’s really disgusting. Between Fahim’s long hair, my long hair, and two shedding cats – well, we get furballs, folks. Not just itty bitty ones, but huge ones. That, I will not photograph. Yes, you can send me chocolates and other gifts in thanks. I will even accept cash gifts. Yes, I will. Because I’m that generous.
Was this a planned power outage? Fahim wasn’t home yesterday to watch Sinhalese news, so for all I know, it could have been announced. I have no idea.
Well, if I decide to do any cooking, we do at least now have wax matches. They’re pretty funky.
Anyway. Enough of this. I’m gonna go write my novel now. It’s been waiting long enough to see a reasonable conclusion. And I want to get this done within the week.