Waking up to that thunderstorm made changing his daily routine incredibly difficult indeed. Ian had expected to get up, eat a bit of breakfast around nine at night, then spend the rest of the evening standing on the deck of his home fishing under the moon and the star. Instead, he was stuck inside painting, which normally was a favourite activity for him, but not tonight. Especially since he had woken feeling unwell; probably the result of asking his body to be awake at a time he normally would be asleep.
To make matters worse, a group of people had arrived on the island, shortly after he woke up on the second night to have a party. Why they chose to party on his little “pimple” of an island so far away from land he could not understand. One man had been singing the same song over and over again for the past five hours. Daylight came and the group dispersed, but Ian knew he would be singing that song in his head all day long. When he thought the coast was clear, he popped his head out and surveyed the area for any intruders on his island. This issue had started off as a small inconvenience and quickly grew into a very large problem as the days passed. These trespassers came and went as they pleased, making this tranquil life of his, not so tranquil at all.
Ian was pleased to see the even with all the noise, the deer had decided to visit and hoping to cured his foul mood, he was determined that today would be the day he finally got to pet the deer. Even though they were still skittish, he did finally manage to make contact with the one deer and it pleased him immensely. However, his attempt with Meeko the raccoon was not so successful. Meeko took a giant bite out of Ian’s finger and walked away with a flick of his tail, while Ian stood there rubbing his stinging finger.
As tempting as it was to take the day off, Ian knew he must resist. He had a goal to get his bank account to one thousand simoleons by the time he went to sleep, so he chose a new fishing spot and cast his line into the water. The fish had come out in large groups and he was able to meet his goal by eleven thirty in the morning! He was tempted to spend some of the money, but decided he would only splurge on a salad for lunch which costed five simoleons. Man could not live on soup or bread with jam alone, he thought. A few veggies would do him some good. Besides, he had received his first set of bills that morning of a whopping sixteen simoleons! He had no idea exactly what he could have done to justify any bills at all!
Just before he tucked himself into bed at five in the afternoon, he was entertained by a magician practicing her skills. Without saying a word to her, he quietly climbed down the ladder to his bed, exhausted by the lack of things he had accomplished that day. Midnight soon arrived and after a semi filling breakfast of a bowl of cereal, Ian climbed up to the deck of his house of his house to fish under the vast sky of bright twinkling stars and a sliver moon. It was better than he ever imagined! The peace that washed over him was humbling and he vowed that fishing would always be under the night sky.
Oh, but a week later:
If Ian were writing a journal he would title his experience from the past three days as:
It Ended With A BANG!
Ian had just experienced the most miserable days since the death of his parents. Funny just how he had been so happy before. Between the rain and the terrible fishing, he was really starting to feel quite sorry for himself. He tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with being lonely; he liked to be alone. No. It was just the universe working against him in the most miserable of ways.He was feeling quite claustrophobic at this point and frustrated, definitely frustrated. His brilliant plan that worked so brilliantly once the rain had finally stopped had then very quickly fallen apart, mainly because of one big issue. His tiny little secluded island had somehow become party central.
Every night at just about the time he had decided to get up and start his day, a group of people, different every night, would show up and hang out This was not what he wanted. Didn’t he very clearly specify that to the real estate agent when he hired her on? How was he supposed to prove he could do this all on his own, be on his own, survive on his own if people kept trespassing on his island? If it wasn’t the people partying, it was the mourners come to pay their respect and cry on his dock for hours. Grating on his very last nerve!
Whoever it was that had died on this dock, he wished they had the decency to die SOMEWHERE ELSE! And what was with the rain anyway. It never rained during the day, only at night and he was sure that was the reason for the lack of fish he had been catching. Oh the size of the fish had definitely grown, but not the price. Huge tuna fish were still only getting him five to ten simoleons. What was that about?
Now as people often do when they are feeling the blues, Ian started wanting a little something to boost his mood. But the frugal person in him justified it as a need, not a want. He had to do something to make more money! So he took his $1100 simoleons and bought himself a computer, thinking it was really time he got working on the writing career anyway.
The microwave? Well, you can’t survive on cereal, soup, and bread with jam forever. It would be good for his health, which hadn’t been great for the past three days either. Nothing like a fever and a runny nose to make an already down in the dumps person feel even more miserable and sorry for themselves. Of course, standing out in the rain in your boxer shorts while you fish all night probably didn’t help that situation either.
The computer purchase caused a bit of a snag……
The only computer he could afford was a very large table model, which meant he had no place to eat. But he figured that with no one around to see, what did it really matter? However it did make him think about finally taking the time to clean the toilet though.
So with his new computer and new microwave, Ian was feeling quite chipper working steadily until he mastered his current painting. It was a beautiful rendition of his family farmhouse in the country and he was tempted to keep it, but decided that he could always paint another. So he sent it to the shipping box. He hoped that someone else looked upon it and had fond memories of times past in their life. He was surprised when he found out the painting sold for ninety six simoleons, especially since it was such a small painting. Nothing like gaining back spent money! Which brings him back to the beginning.
Somewhere he remembered his mother teaching him something about chickens and counting…. Oh yeah, don’t count your chickens before they hatch, sort of thing. While he slept, Ian was robbed! The robber stole the kitchen sink and the toilet which at least were both clean. But still!!!
So if you see this man….
…lock up your sinks and toilets; cause apparently he’s not interested in computers. Kind of a strange fetish don’t you think??? So money earned, quickly became money spent. And all Ian could think when he finally went to sleep was…..