The Middle Path

Chocolate for the sheets?
Monday. Today is Monday and unlike most people, I'm not all bright eyed an bushy tailed (a most asinine description - so very Canadian somehow). My inner voice tells me to develop a case of severe depression so I can stay in bed covered by rumpled bedding and eat chocolate. There's just one problem. I've got white sheets on the bed, and chocolate melts too easily in this weather the before I know it, I'll be spending the day getting chocolate stains off white sheets and I'd have no time to be depressed, write this report which I've promised for Wednesday. I suppose I should really get started on it.



No. More. Rain.

Instant gratification works for coffee, but not for living
In the last post, I had a little thought about the differences between the Great Gatsby and  or Brideshead Revisited, and that I was going to choose a middle path between what Sebastian Flyte and J. Gatsby would have done. I was thinking about this lately, and I realised that in addition to taking the middle path, I should also not extrapolate the past and wish for a future that is more than the past. The past is not meant to be relived over and over again - in fact, it's folly for you might end up like Mrs. Haversham. Goodness, that wouldn't do. Lace is so Madonna in the 80s, and I wouldn't look particularly good in a bustier - laced lined or otherwise. That should be ample reason to not long for a boosted version of the past for that leads to if onlys and in that way lies madness. Much better to be depressed and obsessed over white laundry than be insane. That's my personal belief. 

Sundays made golden by Nigella and Guinness
Last Sunday was golden, and this Sunday too was golden except for the 10 am knock on the door following a series of knocks on the floor at 7 am. Oops. What can i say? I'm used to living in solitary confinement splendour. It was a reunion of the fleurs who attended Cafe de Flore a few years ago. Even Mr. Parent was in town, but unfortunately due to other engagements he was unable to attend, Mille Regrets etc etc on blacked edge note paper and so forth. The two Dr. Cs were present as were their spouses with 7 sorts of bitters - none as bitter as me - Dr. J was there too with his sleeper. BKKB and RP rounded up the guest list. The SOCK was scaling mountains before skiing down them so was too busy to come. Nobody noticed the changes in the little shoebox what has vistas, and when they cottoned on, they quickly made some excuse about how well the furniture and trellis fitted in, and so really, it was a stroke of genius on my part in selecting these bits of IKEA furniture fine pieces to fit so well in the shoebox instead of saying that bland blends well and easily with bland. 

What hidden meaning could there be in pink dogwood?!
In any case, the evening went well and is apparently now an annual event. I could think of a few improvements that would enhance this event, but I shan't because I'd be veering off the middle path. There were a few too many interpretations of what innocent remarks made by me really meant, however, and also how I was prone to not understanding what others said. All I can say is, sometimes, when the sap rises, it really means that the sap is rising and plants are bursting out of their seed pods, sometimes too, lilies are simply that - lilies and that cream is cream whether flavoured with mint or vanilla. 

And now, I really better get back to my report.