Hermitude, sometimes a must

Yesterday, I remained a hermit all day. I didn’t step foot outside the house once. In the morning, I didn’t feel particularly well, but I got an hour of work done before M. le Maire had an appointment at the bank. I thought he might come back quickly, but he ended up being out all day.

I killed some time with Solitaire for a while, then retreated to my room, where I could alternately nap, play solitaire, read, write poetry, ponder my grammar, etc., for the remainder of the day, save meal times. It was market day, but I didn’t have the energy to go out and see if there was anything good. Chances are if there were, I would have heard about it from someone.

This morning, I found work frustrating for a while. I felt trying to pin down the meaning of a word was like trying to nail jello to a wall. It got better, though, and I just need to accept that completely this dictionary will not always be a fun task, but it’s a worthwhile one nonetheless. And as much as it would be great if it were always fun, that’s not the point—it’s my job and I need to get it done.

M. le Maire told me today that no one has ever been “disappointed in me” in the village. That was nice. Ramata echoed something similar a few days ago, when she told me that the whole two months I was gone, people would ask about me every day. I’m glad they seem to like me, or at least take interest in me. I feel bad that I won’t be able to be back out for a few weeks, but the roads are just so hard that to just pop over and say hi isn’t exactly an easy thing. I’m toying with the idea of going out on Saturday to come back on Monday or something, but I don’t want to risk not having a ride back and missing my appointment in Bamako. I guess I’ll just send my regards in the form of a poorly crafted Tommo-So letter that can be read to people.

Kirill should get in this evening, and Minkailou is taking off to Sevare for a few days to see his family and settle some money issues. One week to go for meǃ