One morning last week I did not want to leave my house. There is an invisible force field that keeps me there sometimes. I stew and putter and ask myself what is the point, there’s nowhere to go, everything is bad. And then I realize the alternative is staying inside and thinking these thoughts over and over and the only way to get them to stop is to leave.
So I walk to my nearest coffee shop. I’ve written about it before. Is it a good coffee shop? No. It’s overpriced. It only has outdoor seating. Said outdoor seating is infested with birds looking for croissant crumbs. Many of the couches in the outdoor area are splitting and probably rotting. Most patrons are about twenty years younger than I am. The employees are often high. It takes way too long to get your coffee. The coffee is more bitter than I like it. It’s right on a very busy street which means you hear loud cars going by all the time. Did I mention the birds? I got a quiche today and it was like twelve dollars and cold in the center.
BUT.
It’s somewhere to go. There are people here. I see outfits. I overhear conversations. The baristas peer over the counter to say hello to familiar dogs of customers, or to admire unfamiliar dogs of customers. I met a man there the other day who got his golden retriever in a humane society raffle he entered on a whim. Sometimes babies come. Sometimes my baby comes. No one gets mad about the babies being there. They smile at the babies. It’s green and sunny on the bird patio. Today, while I was waiting for my quiche that still wasn’t warm, the high twenty-seven year old barista offered me some more hot milk to refresh my drink. Sometimes you overhear really good conversations--like a guy talking to his friend about how he thought he messed up his hernia surgery at a monster truck rally but it turned out that he just had gotten a second hernia.
Do you get where I’m going with this? This country sucks (bombs) but also has some good stuff (free speech) and right now there’s only one coffee shop within walking distance.
As I think about the kind of coffee shop I want to live in (and vote for), these things come to mind: “The Choctaw Gift,” running a marathon in jail, a president on the presidency, and confusing but heartfelt RHONY political philosophy.
VOTE, ETC.!
My fridge is full of fish. No beef.
An arrow shot through time…