The mysterious writer
I decided to try something different. After work on Monday, I went to a nearby café for a lemon iced black tea, a chocolate quinoa cake and a little writing. Old school writing with a mechanical pencil and a note book. It's where I composed this post.
I work downtown Ottawa within walking distance to many pubs, restaurants and cafés. I normally rush home after my work day is done. I rarely take advantage of my work's geographical location. I want to, however for some reason it usually remains a fantasy rather than a reality. So I decided to make it a reality. It's a small thing, but it makes a difference. It changes up the routine a little.
There's a bus stop right beside the café where many government workers gather with a stern look on their face to wait for the bus back home to the east end. This part of downtown almost looks like a ghost town when all of the government workers have gone home for the day.
Sitting by the window. Looking outside. Pretty dresses. Hipsters. Handsome well-dressed men. Inside. Chill music. Bearded hotty behind the counter. Friendly service.
Fatigue from a weekend of bad sleeping caught up to me. I stared blankly out the window at the scenery for many minutes. "OK, time to pack up and head on home."
I liked this little spontaneous trip to the café after work. It might even become routine. One of The Minimalists says he doesn't have internet at home even though he runs a popular website and an online writing course. He does it all from free public Wi-Fi. I like that idea. If it wasn't for my teen daughter, I too might get rid of my internet. I think that there's something somewhat romantic about sitting in a café or pub, nursing a drink, observing people and writing.
Ah! The inspired mysterious writer!