There is always a shock when this happens, because suddenly the Collaroy Castle which I am accustomed to having to myself is much MUCH smaller. I'm also keenly aware of the fact that I understand my parents (particularly my mum) less and less. I'm noticing how she seems incapable of doing something without announcing it, that the traditional maternal fussiness is still there, and that she has very little knowledge of what is going on with me. None of this results in hostility or even awkwardness, but it is still there. I've not lived in the same jurisdiction as my parents for eight and a half years and it shows.
We did have a chat about the gloom yesterday, which is an issue of some concern to her. She wanted to make sure I'm not drifting in the direction of suicide (I'm not and she knows I'm not) and I suspect there will be more chats while they are here. I was kind of hoping to be able to explain what's going on with me, but I can't seem to do it. It's like it's back to the old drill of things being wrong when nothing is wrong.
In better news, I finished all my work for the Cert III and handed it in on Thursday. The training manager at my gym signed off on a number of workout sessions that I was meant to observe. In fact, I just entered workouts that I had done in the past and that was deemed to be good enough. I did do a flexibility session with Helga (who is leaving Canberra to move in with her boyfriend) and an aerobic session with Coffee Snob to get used to designing programs for people and they were both happy with what I did. Now I am going to start on my Cert IV.
There have been a number of good workouts recently, including a new concept that involves working out with a deck of cards. Each suit represents an exercise, and the value on each card represents the number of reps. Then you just "hit the deck" and go through either the whole deck or go for a set period of time. Very random, a good challenge, and heaps of fun.
Also, on the Collaroy Castle front, I am getting a stronger feeling that much of the pressure for selling the place is coming from my aunt in Sweden who resents the place and the work required to maintain it. It struck me yesterday that if she died, there would be far less pressure to sell. Noticing this made me feel a bit macabre, but maybe that's what I'm like these days.