“The magic of the street is the mingling
of the errand and the epiphany.”
Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust | Photo by Jay Fung
I'm heading out to a cafe to do some work, because so far today I have done nothing but sit in front of the TV. Is anyone else watching the final season of The Americans? It could hardly be more gripping, and the acting is outrageously good. The series finale is next week, and everything appears to be exploding, but quietly—more of an implosion actually. And then I watched an episode of Fixer Upper, wishing, as I do come summer, that someone would just come in and make over my house. In the kitchen, the dishes are piled up from last evening. I looked at them and walked away. Memorial Day weekend is here. These warm weather holidays leave me invisibly reeling and out of sorts. I'm always convinced the rest of world has scintillating outings planned, while I stare at a sink full of dishes, and wrestle with a book outline that is taking much too long to reveal itself. So now I am packing up my laptop and heading to the bookstore cafe. Surrounded by similarly solitary strangers, I'll try to co-exist with this "poor me" melancholy for a while, hoping it will grow bored of acceptance and ride on through.