Expectations

With four days to go until we have to shed our dirty backpacker skins I am starting to dread having to give a thought to anything that does not involve transport, food and fun. From what I recall there are other things one does have to worry about (haircuts? paying rent?) or maybe one worries about those unnecessarily. I shall find out. 

I am having a hard time not wanting to write up to do lists that would scare the besus out of me. God knows there have been a million issues involving every public and private institution in three countries that we have been blissfully ignoring, unable to get our heart rate up enough to create the kind of care or concern that would possibly induce action. 

What does get my heart rate up however is the thought of how our lives will be once in Singapore, or really, lets be honest, what my life will look like. 

First off, fancy and I will be separated. I don't think him and I have not been sitting directly next to each other for more than maybe four hours (and that is an outlier) in the past three months. I like to think myself an independent person, but I have gotten awfully used to backing every major step (buy green or red dolphin sarong?) with a nod from him. I got used to wasting endless hours sitting by the ocean sipping mango drinks, reading the exact same books, meeting the exact same people, listening to all the same conversations, spending an identical day so that we are pretty much the same person. 

So lets presume I can manage to survive all on my own without developing phobias or anxiety attacks and manage to make my very own decisions about breakfast choices, the next big issue is, what do I do with the rest of the day? I am torn between two conflicting visions of my free-lance Singapore life. 

After spending an amazing day on the beach or on a boat, filled with nothing but happy endorphins I envisions this amazing life of mine as follows: getting up, going for a swim in our luxurious condo (haha! real estate prices are not quite there yet!), making myself that mango lassi, working at home during the noon heat, meeting some lunching lady for well, lunch, with a glass of chilled chardonnay, working a bit more, going for a swim in the afternoon and soon enough the weekend will roll around when we will go to Thailand or Indonesia or Malaysia for beach fun.  On the side I will dapple in photography, building up an impressive fashion-y portfolio that will then make the first part of the day redundant - the work bit, not the mango bit. 

On less optimistic days I wonder why on earth I thought it would be a good idea to move to a city where I know nobody except possibly the girl I was mean to when I lived there during 9th grade (and her two baby sons cause yay I love babies), in order to work at home, give up any contact with colleagues and clients except the odd instance when I will fly out to meet the team in some obscure location in the Middle East, give up any motivation to further my career via being stimulated by being around other people, only to spend weekends on a tropical island that lacks even a decent beach and boasts cocktail prices about the same level as London. 

Which one will it be?