The Strategy of the Sealed Bridge and the Murderous Recipe

This week has been different. It’s quiet—almost too quiet. It’s the kind of heavy, expectant silence that makes your ears actually hurt from the lack of noise. When the Mayor asked, “How is everything going in the South?” I had to stop and think. It’s going, but it is quiet. Nothing is happening.

We are caught in a cold front. With rain almost every day, the sky is a permanent blanket of grey, and it looks and feels like winter has officially moved in. I think this has resulted in our strangely hushed week. I haven’t had to fight about anything; my son is doing homework on his own and has even started washing the dishes. He added last night, “I will wash dishes every day, except for Fridays.” I understand that—no homework and no chores on Fridays. It’s a policy I can get behind.

The Zen of the Nail Scroll

Slower evenings and better morning routines have taken over. Everything has just fallen into place. There is no rushing, no running around like a headless chicken in a spotlight. Meetings come easy; conversations even easier.

I even had time to sit down and scroll for ideas for my next nail appointment—and that is only in two weeks! Usually, I am scrambling the night before to find something I like, but this time, it’s different.

I’ve been guessing why this is happening, and I think I found the answer. During school breaks, there are no rules and almost zero responsibilities. But now, structure has returned. Routines fall into place, planning is done in advance, and the commitments are being met. With the rain, there has been no digging and no destroying of necessary infrastructure. We have Wi-Fi, water, and electricity. We wash laundry in smaller bundles and hang them inside to dry. No one is making a mess, no one is complaining, and I have the help I need from my husband and son. Happy wife = happy life.

Choosing the Battlefield

I’ve decided to choose my battles better. I ask myself: Will I still be angry about the muddy floor tomorrow? If the answer is no, then I don’t fight. Will I still be angry about the lost jacket on Friday? Probably yes. But will I let it affect my peace? No.

I will still go to school on Friday morning and see if I can find the jacket among the other 100 missing ones. Will I stop caring at some point? Also yes. It doesn’t bother my son or my husband, so why should I care? The famous Game of Thrones quote says: “Winter is coming.” Winter is coming to South Africa faster than Usain Bolt. My husband and son will only care about that jacket when it gets cold. And then, I will pretend not to be bothered. That’s a white lie; deep down I will be screaming, “I TOLD YOU SO! I TOLD YOU TO FIND YOUR OWN JACKET!”

The Merciless Instructor

For weeks, it’s been chaotic with life placing all kinds of demands on me. Now that it’s peaceful, I somehow miss the chaos. Sensing this, my husband has shown his usual signs of impatience, and the Mayor has been… well, the Mayor. The less said about that, the better.

Which is why girl talk at my Zumba class is my only savior and escape. Or so I thought. Girls can compare notes, and we stick together. We exchange recipes for delicious health shakes and sometimes, how to murder various people—husbands, co-workers, zumba instructors. But would we then be truly happy?

The only problem is that at Zumba, everyone wanted to know where my son was, he joined me previously, and they probably liked him more than me. I am trying so hard to keep track of the steps that I have no time to chat. This is a particular challenge for a person used to multitasking. Moves change fairly quickly, and I get why I never got a spot in the cheerleading squad. My rhythm is the same as a robot’s, and it seems like I’ve lost all my coordination. When my arms should be up, they are down, when I have to move to the left, I move right, and it feels like my feet are cemented to the floor. And the instructor was merciless today! My body hurts, my knees are crying, and the aerobics absolutely broke my legs.

The Bridge and the Backup Plan

But then the tables turned. The only bridge we have in close proximity to cross the river to get to town will be closed today for maintenance and repairs. What!

This means we can take my son to school, but when we fetch him, we have to take a long scenic route on the outskirts of town—15 to 20 km longer just to get to school and back home. With schedules clashing and time constraints, I had to make another plan.

Luckily, my mom lives closer and on the other side of the bridge. Grandma will do school run duty today until I can drive the long way around to fetch him. Life happens, but it is always good to have a backup plan or a support system. Problem solved with a five-minute phone call. My peace of mind has been restored, and I am officially back in my Zen world.

But for now, I’m staying in the quiet. While contemplating how to dress my son for school next week on “Idiom day”.