23 August 2008

The bamboo on sunday

When the wind blows, the bamboo on the balcony makes a rustling sound. Its blades sigh in the wind and set everything around them in motion. I always imagine I can see the bamboo smile.
It rained on sunday. The water calmly fell straight down. A geometrical pattern of silvery grey against a backdrop of green silence. Thick drops made the bamboo leaves jump up and down. Small flashes of light bounced off them. The bamboo stood straight up in the rain and with a hundred small, green fingers played the piano in the air.
I was lying on the sofa with a rare kind of contentment and felt the damp air just outside the window. I just lay there and read my book. And every now and then I watched the bamboo concert for a while.

15 August 2008

Impa confesses

I don't have a hair drier.

14 August 2008

13 August 2008

Colleague M. gives Impa a tummy ache

In the old days, when I was actually young and life took much longer, I could be in stitches with laughter. On a crummy old cassette tape you can still hear how that almost killed me once. Me and my girlfiends used to press the magical buttons Play and Record on my very first cassette player and record radio plays or chat endlessly about nothing. One day, my friend N. announced I would sit on her shoulders. After that, it's quiet for a while and then you hear a lot of stumbling and a loud thud. I'd climbed on to her shoulders from the bed when she lost her balance and I violently met with the green carpet on the floor via the lamp, door and desk. Then for a long time the only thing you hear on the tape is two ten-year-olds gasping, panting and moaning with laughter until friend N. groans 'You scared me out of my wit, man.'
Somehow, that changes when you get older. I still laugh out loud at jokes or walk around with a smile that has something to do with a general feeling of wellbeing, but actually rolling around laughing is a rare thing nowadays.
But then I started working at the office where colleague M. works. Him and I can laugh so hard it never seems to stop. I have no clue why, and our colleagues often throw us looks as if we've gone bonkers. And maybe we have. Most of the time we just laugh about a stupid face or a remark the others never caught. And once we've started, the laughter itself is so contageous it only gets worse. The other day I remarked - quite sincerely - that I had never consciously experienced the date of 30th July. Colleague M. choked, started wheezing and squeeking and by the time his eyes were watering, I had a tummy ache from laughing too. And could he please stop because my make-up was runing and I couldn't breathe.
In the end, the reason for laughing doesn't matter. It just feels so bloody good it'll get you through at least another week. That's why I've made a schedule of the days I'd like to work with colleague M. So I'm guaranteed to get that shot of endorphine regularly. It should get me through winter unscathed.