Monday, 25 May 2009
Friendly Doesn't Mean Friends
If there is one thing in Australia that I'll never accept, it is that of people dropping by unexpectedly, or even calling to say they are in the area and wanting to drop in. My plan is to erect a fence at the front of the property as well, with an electric door for the driveway, which will be shut most of the time. I'm not an unfriendly person, but unless I invite you over, in advance, I probably don't want you here. At times, it feels as though I am living in Bizarro World. For example, when the ex rings up Saturday late afternoon and wants to stop by because she is in the area, I want to say: "Huh, what...well, of course not, it's Saturday night and I am spending it with my husband, alone, which I was looking forward to...duh." Instead I must be nice and say "Sorry but it's not a good time. We're very busy and have plans early tomorrow." I want to be friendly, but I don't want to be friends...but I want to be nice and manage boundaries without upsetting anyone. But at least there is pavlova. Yes, I know, this is a strange segway, but I have to acknowledge sometimes that I am living an utterly and completely different life. As the quote on the bottom of the page says, "Life in a foreign country is a dance of submission and resistance. ...you find yourself giving in easily, with a struggle, or not at all." Pavlova, particularly topped with bananas so as to taste similar yet even better than banana cream pie, I can give into easily. People stopping by unexpectedly I would have to give into with a struggle, but would prefer to give in...not at all.