However, if I was left completely to my own devices I would sit in a chair and wonder how the fluttering wings of a butterfly can cause mudslides in Brazil.
Of course, there are many other questions, which now that I am retired, I can devote whole days to thinking about.
Such as — what time did time begin?
Is there another word for thesaurus? Did people invent mathematics? Or was it always there like dark matter, and the Sumerians just stumbled across it while they were looking for something else? And also — how do mermaids make babies?
These are devilish questions that demand answers and if people were left to their own devices to spend more time contemplating them they would have no time for dumb things like wars or avoiding tax.
But I am never left to my own devices. The world is always calling and the practical can-do people among us have to keep the world turning, even if they are retired.
We can’t all afford to spend time in a chair on the verandah just thinking. Unfortunately.
Luckily I’m a list man. I like nothing better than sitting under the shade of the verandah vine with a glass of Obergruppenfuhrer 2015 Riesling and making up a big fat list of things to do.
Here’s my list of things to do this week:
1: Fix leaking bathroom tap.
2: Fix continuously running toilet cistern.
3: Screw four hooks into ceiling for hanging baskets.
4: Screw wrought-iron bracket into window-sill for hanging basket.
5: Install verandah steps.
Now, I am told the skills needed for the above tasks are at professional-amateur level. Unfortunately, mine are at two-year-old capuchin monkey level, so I have had to adapt expectations a little.
Notice I didn’t say lower expectations.
Recently I’ve discovered a certain interior décor term, which perfectly suits my handyman style.
Shabby Chic is something that allows a little bit of licence when it comes to perfection, particularly for the retired capuchin monkey expert.
For instance — that tap that used to drip every three seconds? It now just drips every 10 seconds. All good, it’s Shabby Chic.
What about that wrought-iron window-sill bracket that has one de-threaded screw poking out?
No worries — Shabby Chic, mate.
And the ceiling hook that won’t go all the way in because it’s actually too big for the stud? Yep — it’s that old Shabby Chic again.
And the verandah steps that lean a little bit because two screws are at the wrong angle? Fine, mate — it’s Shabby Chic.
This Shabby Chic thing can be extended to clothes, too. That eight-year-old Beatles T-shirt that’s frayed so much it looks like a cleaning rag? I can still wear it because it’s Shabby Chic.
The same can be said for my old sandals, shorts and haircut — they can all come under the handy umbrella of “I’m-retired-now-and-I-don’t-give-a-flying-damn-any-more” Shabby Chic style.
I’m thinking of using Shabby Chic to explain my whole life so far.
I’m quite good at some things, but I’m not an expert at anything.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.
I’ve always thought perfectionism is the enemy of creativity, and has a very limited life span.
19°C