Tuesdays are pretty “Meh” around here. Monday is a big work day, and frankly, I’m physically tired after working my fingers down to the
proximal interphalangeal joints stumps until 8pm, and beyond. The desire some of my gorgeous people have for optimum performance is relentless. And invigorating.
However, as I have revealed previously, I am, by nature, a sloth. I live in my head, and in my house, preferably without leaving either one too often. Case in point: I once went eight days and nights without leaving “the compound”. Working from home, and shopping online allows hermits like me to seem almost normal. Almost. Before you freak out and think Nath has me locked up under the stairs (cos Lord knows I do require reining in from time to time, as Mr Boags well knows), the compound does include going out the back gate and over to the beach. It’s part of my property after all. My beach. My sand. My lifeguard (oh yessiree Bob).
So Tuesday. Meh. Housework. Jobs. Reading groups at school. Thinking about how not to exercise, or feeling guilty about not doing it. You know, all the things that have to happen every week, no matter how well you did them last week, and will still need to be done again next week, not matter how well you did them this week. And the week after. Sometimes the banal rituals of life just get to me.
I try to remind myself to be grateful. To remember how lucky I am to live here. To have this beach at my doorstep. To have this view. To have this wide open sky. To have the warmth of the sun on my back. To be alive and healthy and happy and loved. But Tuesdays.
Today gorgeous Lani invited me to have coffee with her, and she chose Bistro C . I love Bistro C. I love the noise and the view and the fun, fast and cheeky service. I love the food that never skips a beat, and the music that lifts my mood, and the view. I may have mentioned that view.
Still, I was Tuesday grumpy about Hastings Street today. The Tri is on this weekend, and that bloody Seahaven reno is still going on, and so I knew parking would be scarce and tossers would be everywhere. I muttered and mumbled myself into a parking space right out front, and then grumbled and griped right up to the front door.
And then it happened. Noosa magic.
The blue-eyed guy greeted me with a grin and said, “Sure, sit wherever you like”. Then coffee came with smiles and speed. Water came often, and without fuss. The sun warmed my skin. The breeze fluttered along my forearms and tickled my nape, and those Tuesday Bluesdays just flittered off. I looked out at that big blue bay and remembered all the times I’ve sat here, in this spot, and marvelled at the luck and cunning that landed me here on this squeaky white sand. Once a tourist, and now here planted.
Coffee and muffins and Lani arrived and we sat and we talked and laughed and solved the problems of the world, or at least of our own minds, and together Laguna Bay and that Bistro Sea just acted like a salve to my fragmented soul. Sure, I still have the boring to do. And the things that ail my mind are still there, worrying away and burying deep, but seeing this place through the eyes of a tourist lightened me.
Opens your eyes it does.
Do you have a Bistro C?
What day is your Bluesday?
**This is not a sponsored post. I paid for my own damn coffee and muffin. 7 bucks. Get onto it.