One of the avoidable mistakes you can make is to expect to follow up one great day with another. On the other hand, it seems unavoidable.
I made that mistake yesterday. I didn't have a bad day, really. It just wasn't remarkable. Or maybe it was, and I simply didn't appreciate it. A lesson I learned long ago but sometimes forget is not to compare one experience with another. That was one of the things I was most proud of in relationships.
"This just isn't as good as it was in Paris, is it?"
I actually received a compliment from a girl yesterday. She told me I had taught her how to enjoy life and have fun.
"With my parents, it was always 'you have to be productive.' It was always work, work, work, work, work. You taught me how to. . . ."
I hope I haven't made her Falstaffian, though. I don't want her to look back in a decade and curse me for some lack of success. I think one must do the work, too. I just think you must enjoy doing it. I mean, for some people, grad school is a chore that must be gotten through. For me, it was a thrill. Things can be what you make them.
Some of them. Certainly not all.
I know I have done a lot of complaining lately, and I know it is unseemly. It shows a distinct lack of imagination. Complaining is a coward's way, an attempt to portray oneself as a victim. I think, in part, it is the fear of hearing, "The party's over."
I need to change my tune.
So. . . I had a good time yesterday. I really did. I just had low energy. The day started off well enough. I put on some music while I made breakfast. I asked Alexa to play "Chick Habit," from which it made a mighty good mix and I was dancing around like a boy in love, and I thought, yea. . . this is going to a great day. Maybe it was the hour of cardio I did in the gym that did it, but by noon, I felt whipped, and just as I was about to lie down in my own bed and take a nap, I remembered that the cleaning crew was coming. I got a text that they would be there in an hour, so I did what I needed to do and fled. I would go someplace I hadn't gone before. Krung Thep. I'd stop there first and have a look-see.
I walked into a small room with two rows of tables, one against the wall and another near the food counter. It was not intimate at all. The room was sterile and functional. A nice girl I guessed was half Thai greeted me, and I told her I had never been there before and was having a look around.
"I just found out yesterday that Krung Thep is what Bangkok is called in Thailand. I always thought this was an English tea and finger sandwich place."
She showed me to a laminated menu on the bar with drinks on the front and food on the back. All the food was Thai inspired sandwiches for which I wasn't in the mood, but I didn't want to walk out without trying something, so I ordered a Thai coffee and took a seat at a table with stools without backs. I hate sitting on a stool, especially with a bad neck and back, but that was all that was available, so. . . .
She brought out a giant clear glass mug filled with ice, coffee, and a layer of cream on top. I stirred in the cream and took a sip, and holy smokes, what a surprise. I'd expected it to be too sweet, but it was perfect. This was exactly what I needed, I thought, to get me back on my feet.
When I finished, I told her it was good, and she suggested I try the other Thai coffee which had a layer of cheese on top. She said it made the coffee a little salty and mentioned some exotic deserts it reminded her of. I said I'd come back sometime and try it.
It was still too early to go home, and I needed a new pair of running shoes, so I stopped by the REI store down the street. I took a slow stroll around the store looking for treats of some kind, something I didn't know I wanted, but it seems that outdoor gear hasn't changed much in the past few decades and I already had all that I would ever need, if, in fact, I would ever need any of it again. By the time I got to the shoes, I was fading. Somehow the coffee hadn't picked me up. Indeed, I was fading fast.
The shoe selection was disappointing, so I went back to my car. I had a text. The cleaning crew would now be coming in half an hour. Shit. I could have napped. Now. . . the afternoon was growing long. I decided to hop across the street to the good Spanish restaurant and have some gazpacho. I hadn't been in there more than a couple times all year.
"Hey, you. . . how are you doing?"
It was the same barmaid I usually saw. She remembers everything, what I eat, what I drink, my name. . .
"How's your mother?"
I told her about the Thai coffee down the street, and she said she had just noticed that place the other day. She liked Thai coffee, she said. She thought she might go.
The gazpacho hit the spot, but I was still wanting a nap. When I'd finished, I wondered what to do. I had the new Osborne book in the car. I headed off to the Cafe Strange. It was three o'clock. I didnt want another coffee. What the hell. I'd have a beer. My mother had called earlier to tell me her neighbor's daughter was taking her to get her hair done at 4:30 so I wouldn't need to hurry home.
The counter girl greeted me by name. It is not the right name, but she always calls me by it. It's ok with me. I told her about the Thai coffee. She said she had just noticed that place the other day. She liked Thai coffee. She knew much about it and it's variations. She said she would have to try it out.
Weird coincidences.
I sat outside with my beer and read for awhile. It was four. I could go home.
Where I didn't know what to do. Whatever.
I went back to my mother's and made a cocktail. But what about dinner? I'd wing it. I had a salad mix in the refrigerator. I'd cut up an avocado and mix it in with canned chicken.
When my mother got home, she had a hamburger in hand. I was glad I didn't cook.
A little tv and an early bed where I slept the night through.
It had been a low energy day, but not bad. Today I will give up expectations. Flow. Find happiness wherever.
The best thing, though, has been the YouTube mix that started with "Chick Habit." So much music I've never heard of before.
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