Drip, drip, drip. Repetitive sounds annoy me. Why so many plumbing problems, I think to myself. That too just days before my big trip. Big trips make me anxious. Planning, organising, anticipating, disruption × 10. I could have done with a little peace. Seeing as this year's been a roller coaster, a stop before another ride would have helped. But it's not to be. How do I make this sound stop, I think to myself. I found a way. Put the plastic dish-washing thing on a sponge in the sink and the tap drip does not hit with a sound. Relief. But I still have to solve this problem. Must it have to happen now...? Well, let me call a different plumber. I must test out a few frogs before I find the prince. Wait, I don't need to worry about the sound now I am leaving for work. Funnily I recall the old philosophical problem. When water drips in the sink and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound? Clearly not!

Here I thought I was having it bad with the dripping and the tripping... now I feel emotionally numb on top of it. What was it Shakespeare said about troubles not coming singly but in battalions... It's a good thing that most people can carry on carrying on without stopping to ask existential questions. I wish I could wake up, brush my teeth, eat my breakfast, go for work... etc on autopilot mode. Not reflect too much on the whys and wherefores. I don't remember much of the process of brushing or bathing because I am so immersed in thought. I forget if I really washed my face sometimes and do it again. No harm doing it twice, is there? Someone said on Facebook the other day that she brushes with her left hand to be more intentionally focused on brushing. Wow! I don't know about that... if the brush grazes my teeth for enough time with no recollection from me, did they really get brushed...? Yes, I think...?

I am in China now. Settling in slowly, setting up my routines. Having been here before, my body seems to know its way around. There is no anxiety that comes from the complete unknown. Immediately, I encounter the natural helpfulness/kindliness of people. Not effortful or studied or appearances sake. My stuff left last year is stored by the property management run by mostly women. I message this lady if she could bring it to my flat for me. Trying my luck. She's there at my door. Barely an hour later. With three bulky boxes. I compare my interactions with people in the UK. There is a transactional quality to them that leaves me very cold sometimes. Like if you showed a human heart, it'd be blasphemy, an imposition. Must be as detached as you can, never exceed your boundaries. Which is why sometimes when something overflows, it touches me. The chap who finally came to fix the sink blockage (yes, the tap dripping was followed by yet another problem!) at home was an elderly man who found the door access system too technical for him. But he knew his own stuff. I was so thankful when he fixed the sink thing. When I paid him in cash, he took it and kissed my hand. It shocked me for a second but in a good way. It felt comfortingly human…