A big round moon for the Mid-Autumn festival. They say that strange things happen around full moons. Nothing earth-shattering thus far. Or moon-shattering, rather. It did rain while it was sunny a few times though. A fox’s wedding they say in Japanese. A witch’s wedding in Spanish. The devil is beating his wife. This is apparently the American expression. Never actually heard anyone say that. And the devil having a wife seems counterintuitive to me. I like foxes and witches better anyway.
This week the rightful occupant returned and the impostor-apartment has been restored to its original title of just apartment. The revelry was so intense that I do not even feel guilty about neglecting my Monday entry. A friend of mine has dubbed the rightful occupant a modern-day Bacchus. The rightful occupant has no concept of “treat yourself” or “you earned it” because they simply live this way already. It is their default mode. There is nothing wrong with this so long as you are a good person. And the rightful occupant is, or so I have been paid to say.
Returning to live in my little green room on my not-so-little green island, I notice that the rubber tree on my balcony has been vying for a reliable source of water in my absence. Its roots now grow down the drainpipe. A feeling of pride and also one of kinship wells up in my chest for this rubber tree of mine. It is a clever plant, if that makes sense. And we are both after the same thing. Reliability.