My girlfriend and I have wisely invested the last two months or so in our cultural education. We are both watching the entirety of the Star Wars Saga for the first time. All nine. I’ve seen a few of the movies before, but a long time ago (and in a galaxy far, far away). She, having fulfilled her need for fantasy stories with a Harry Potter obsession, was as of yet ignorant of Star Wars. In fact, she thought of Star Trek and Star Wars as one and the same franchise, as I’m sure nearly all twenty-two-year-old women do. I have subsequently dissuaded her from that delusion. The really shocking thing to me is just how into it she is. I thought that our watching the movies would involve much eye rolling and sarcastic commentary (as there is when my mother is present for the viewing of any science fiction film), but in actuality, she is a total convert! Every time a lightsaber is ignited (ignited? Unsheathed? I mean turned on. When it makes the bwzzz noise) or a spaceship jumps into hyperdrive, she looks at me with giddy excitement. I, of course, return the giddy look, excited to so openly and wholeheartedly share in a new fandom together.
I’ve been doing the inventory this week. Both of my bosses are taking summer leave that overlap for about three weeks and as they’d prefer their shop to operate well in their absence, they have endeavoured to give each of the team members a large holiday project to work on while they’re gone. Because I’m such a lucky boy, my special project is to create an extensive and detailed inventory list of the five-hundred-some lamps, sideboards and sofas on offer in our shop. I also have to cover the warehouse. And the workshop. And basement. We’ve often chatted about the creatively ambitious projects I could get my fingers stuck into. An idea at the top of the list was to create a series of large posters that we could hang in the shop, informing our customers about each of the furniture designers whose pieces we stock, sharing a little about their style and legacy, and displaying examples of their iconic pieces. The bosses and I have also discussed totally redoing the store front window, plastering it with massive (but tasteful) vinyl stickers advertising our in-house upholstery and workshop. This week we also received two large, blank light up signs (the ones you never see in Cape Town, that stick sideways out of the wall, advertising the shop to people walking down the street, rather than those standing in front of it). At some point I’d love to set about turning those into attractive branding for the store. The upholstery and I have also played with the thought of showing off their process more creatively, considering building a wall display of several dining room chair seats at different stages in the reupholstery process. All this to say that my project was, instead, to assign every single piece of furniture with an index, note its designer and country of origin, take its measurements and enter this and a handful of other data points into my very interesting, very creatively fulfilling spreadsheet.
In the interest of taking my mind off of my wonderfully exciting inventory taking, I popped down to the library on my lunch break earlier this week. It poured with rain, my train was late, and I was still frightfully hungry despite putting away a bowl and a half of chicken penne, but, not all was lost, I did manage to successfully retrieve a single item from the library: a Star Wars video game. It’s been raining in Berlin all week and this weekend is no different, so after no time deliberating at all, my girlfriend and I decided that we would do a cosy weekend. We have yet to define exactly what that entails, but it certainly means hot chocolate, staying in our pyjamas all day and, I thought, a solid chunk of time turning my lovely round eyes square.
The only trouble is, I lost my nerve a little once I’d actually borrowed the game and brought it home. I considered a whole day spent tucked into bed, watching TV, playing video games, chatting and relaxing. With the weekend coming closer and closer, what had sounded fantastically comforting in theory, now seemed wildly irresponsible. I’ve got to register myself with the German government for yet another bureaucratic ring I have to jump through, I haven’t written for myself in an awfully long time, there are some crafts I’ve been meaning to get to. I feel like I have to spend my free time (of which there seems to be a dwindling supply each month) doing things that are strictly good for me. No TV or video games. I feel like I’m fifteen again enjoying my school holidays and can hear my parents telling me to put my iPad away and suggesting that I read instead. The only difference being that those comments probably would have come after I had shut myself away in my room for eighty consecutive hours. I know that I’m not lazy. I wake up at half past six most mornings and only arrive home twelve hours later most evenings. I pay my rent on time and never forget to wash my clothes and I budget my finances well and I eat vegetables every night for dinner. I don’t know why a lazy day makes me feel guilty, but I’m not sure it’s a very good instinct to have.
At the time of writing this week’s journal, I have successfully logged three-hundred and ten items into my inventory list. And all it took was about a dozen espressos and double that in biscuits. If you enjoyed this journal, please subscribe.
Like the sketch of an Opel Corsa half shaft CV joint. 😉