The Burden of Independence
In today’s entry, I reflect on the challenges that come with my independence. Stepping out of the comfortable routine of everyday life, I realize that my self-reliance sometimes becomes uncomfortable for others—especially those who like to have control over everything. As the week progresses, minor frustrations and problems culminate in a larger conflict. Does independence really mean freedom, or does it sometimes become a burden?
As the weekend approaches, I feel that my independence is increasingly bothering certain control-freak individuals, but this only comes to a head on Saturday. My recent days have become somewhat monotonous: both boring and yet comfortable. Every morning starts at seven, when I’m still half-asleep. The mornings follow the usual routine of sweeping and watering. During the rest of the day, I fix a clothes shelf and a washbasin; the clothes dryer, however, requires a specialist, and for the light bulb replacement, someone who can order a new one.
Thursday and Friday afternoons I spend mowing the roadside grass after receiving a lawnmower. My Friday afternoon is spent trying to repair a coffee machine, but after five hours, I give up and provide the guest with a new one from an empty room. I know this will cause a scandal by Saturday, but I did everything I could. On this estate, everything breaks down, sooner rather than later.
Thursday evening, I head into town just to get out for a while. At the pub, I discover my new favorite beer, Pelican, and I listen to the concert until ten at night. In a taco fast-food place, after twenty minutes of waiting, I leave without paying, as they still hadn’t prepared my sandwich—there were no other customers. At the Arab guy’s place, despite the crowd, my chicken salad arrives at my table within five minutes.
I don’t want to dwell on the thought that “everything breaks,” but sometimes it’s inevitable.
Arles, Friday, September 13, 2024
