Do I have a drinking problem if I drink a glass of wine four nights a week and it goes down quite fast and I sure do want another one and if I do have two, usually only on Saturday nights or special occasions, that one goes down fast too?
Also, when I’ve had a drink and I see something out of the corner of my eye, I never believe it. I tell myself it was just the drink. But if I’m having a glass four nights a week, that means I can’t believe my own eyes half the time. That’s not good, is it.
I make it sound like there are all manner of strange goings-on here. There aren’t, really. There were spooky things that happened when I first moved into the café, but they were spooky-nice … in other words, just nice, not spooky. My guitar would fall over for no obvious reason but the neck would never break. There would always always always be more money in the cashbox than there should have been, and this when we run on the honour system, to boot. And remember when we used to get those handwritten notes with recipes on them? Those were cool and I never did find out who left them. We get good stuff in the tip jar now too. Here’s what was in it last night:
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. – Martin Luther King, Jr.
I still think it’s Beatrice but she swears not and the handwriting doesn’t really look like hers and anyway surely by now she’d’ve fessed up. It’s not like it wouldn’t come out when she’s here every week if not every day. Remember when she moved here and she wouldn’t leave her place? She still doesn’t, except to come here. But that’s something we can be glad about.
I was happy here then and I’m happy here now. Just getting used to a little less of Beau in my life. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I never did write a proper entry about it, and maybe I never will. Suffice it to say, I’ve spent my weekends alone for some time now and it’s been an adjustment. I miss him. And also: I don’t.
What can I say. That’s life. What a jumble of contradictions, each as true as the next. We are on good terms but not good enough. Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it, I just end up pissed off. I am thankful for the company of my dog in the evenings and for the people who come in and out of here during the day. It’s all good. Life is beautiful.