After a month of being forced make such tough decisions as, "Should I wear my dirty skirt today, or my dirtier skirt today?" and, "Should I eat rice for dinner tonight? Or maybe I should have rice for dinner tonight?" and finally, "Should I go to the construction site today? Or should I go to the construction site today?" Jo and I have discovered that our capability to plan or make any sort of commitment is almost nonexistant. So not knowing what else to do, we flew from Sydney to Ballina yesterday.
Right now, I'm sitting in Byron Bay, bikini on, feet freshly pedicured, and a bag full of vital supplies for a day at the beach (sunscreen, sarong, book, journal and music). My life has gone from the rough, to rough only in the most sardonic sense of the word. Last night was spent in Nimbin after a spur of the moment road trip with one Welsh guy, one English guy and one Quebecois guy. We ended up spending the evening with three hippies in their 40s with dreads that reached their tailbones, and with a 18-year-old Aussie freestyle rapper who had just been released from jail that day.*
But that's a story for another time, since the beach is calling to me.
*Don't let this worry you Mom and Dad. I'm still getting my spinach. And that's what really matters.