Friday evening...

The weekend has properly started and by all rights I should put on my party clothes now and go out to a pub or a disco. No, I should go out for dinner first and then go out for drinks and a dance. 

In my younger years I would have done so, but I'm afraid that I no longer have it in me. I wouldn't know how to party if I stumbled into one. I've forgotten completely how to do it. The noise of it would drive me mad. I'm a middle aged woman on the wrong side of the middle after all. 

I'd rather have an intimate get together over white wine and candlelight in a cozy pub by a fireplace in a small inn somewhere. That's about my speed. Somewhere in the countryside where I can look at the starry sky later in the evening. A little tipsy maybe, but feeling no pain. 

A woman can fantasize, can't she? I'll fantasize a tall, dark, handsome stranger to go with it. Someone who dissolves in the morning before breakfast so as not to spoil the illusion. I don't want him to see the saggy bits by daylight. The harsh truth, as it is so unkindly called. The one you have to face up to during the day when you're sober and sensible. 

I am, in the first place, a sensible woman. Make no mistake about it. In the end I always do the right thing and I don't let my imagination get out of hand. This leads me to live a very sedate life without any sort of wild abandon in it. I no longer live my life like it's a dramatic novel or a larger than life film. Something by Ingmar Bergman with a lot of pain in it. 

I suppose that if you get burned bad enough, you learn to live your life without any shenanigans in it. You avoid drama. You steer clear of anything that could be highly emotional and volatile. You learn to appreciate peacefulness and predictability.

Well, look at me, preaching to the probably already converted. I'm sure I don't have to tell any of you anything new. 

Have a good evening.

Ciao,

Nora

No dull people here...

As usual, I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, enjoying the peace and quiet of the middle of the night. I don't have to tell you anything new. It's the same old story, but I think that does not make me a dull person. I'd like to think that it makes me predictable, but still still exciting enough to get to know better. I may be an open book by now, but maybe we haven't read all the chapters yet. 

I made just enough coffee for two cups. That's my limit and how much coffee I make every time I do. In 24 hours, I have six cups of coffee and I think that's not much compared to how many I used to drink. I'm severely limiting myself. It's a little bit tough, but doable. 

As long as I get some caffeine when I wake up from whenever I've been asleep, I'm okay. If I don't have any, I'm likely to be a grouchy person and sit here like a bump on a log and achieve very little. 

I feel that way especially when I wake up from my afternoon nap. I would be very devastated if I could not have any caffeine then. I always feel like I'm in a state of depression and feel like crying when I first get up. 

Well, that's exaggerating it a little bit, but I really do need the caffeine to function better. I think it's like a medicine that makes the chemicals in my brain work better. Two cups are just enough, although I'd like to cut it down to one, but I think that's stretching it and probably an over ambitious plan. 

I must have just turned thirteen when I started drinking coffee regularly. I remember that I had my own cup and saucer that nobody else used. Everybody did. We all had our own individual little teaspoon too to stir the sugar with. I took both sugar and cream in my coffee then. To make it potable, I'm sure. 

We drank coffee every evening at 8 o'clock and in the weekends also at 10:30 in the morning. We all had two cups, it was a ritual. It was a little impolite to turn down the second cup. In the Netherlands, it's impolite to turn down anything that's offered to you, even if it's by your own mother.

I got my own hand cut crystal wineglass when I was not quite sixteen. It was assumed that you learned how to handle alcohol and drink it socially along with the adults at the proper time of the evening. I never did become a drinker, except for the occasional lapse when I have three or four drinks and become drunk.

But the love for coffee never left me and I'm addicted to it to this day. That's why I think it has medicinal qualities. My son was the same way and was not approachable until he'd had his morning coffee. We had a lot in common. Talk about the apple not falling far from the tree. 

There may have been a dull person here after all. What do you think? It's not a very exciting post, is it? Apparently I'm not that inspired this night. I must not have had enough coffee. I'm probably too sane to be very interesting. 

Well, you can't win them all.

Have a good Sunday. 

Ciao,

Nora