Although I’ve been known to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom in the nuddy, I’m not one of those crazy home nudists.
That said, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of coming home from work, walking through the door, and gettin’ your gear off.
For me, gettin’ my gear off means stripping down to underwear.
And on a warm, and slightly humid summer evening in Sydney, that’s quite a good feeling.
It’s up there with sneezing after a significant build up, going to the bathroom after an extended period of trying to locate one, and the taste of a beer on a warm summer’s day.
It’s one of the more “base” feelings we have, which reminds us all of our animal origins.
Today was a good day at work, one which I enjoyed very much, but by late this afternoon, I was anxious to simply come home, get my gear off, have a glass of wine, and catch up on some personal emails I should have responded to several days ago, but which didn’t quite get around to.
“What have you got planned for the weekend?’, a colleague asked me this afternoon.
Virtually nothing, I told her. “I’m in serious savings mode with less than four weeks until I’m in Sweden”.
I’m off to a friend’s place for lunch tomorrow, but aside from that, it’s a quiet weekend for me.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not turning into a hermit until I leave. I’ve got Swedish class resuming on Tuesday, I’m planning to see Swedish singer, Frida Hyvönen play next week, I’m off to some plays and films as part of Mardi Gras, and I’ve got an O’Brien Family Reunion to attend.
And then, bang, I’m in Sweden where it won’t be hot, it won’t be humid, and I doubt I’ll have a desire to get my gear off as soon as I walk in the front door.
There again, you never know your luck…