Cross-posted at AnnieDeMoranville.com
I owe you a weekly menu, but it’s been a busy week of writing. I’ll try to get it up this weekend. Here’s my latest little Instagram post:
Left on a dusty shelf in a dark corner of a secondhand store. A hidden treasure, ignored and neglected. I brought it home, cleaned it up, and stationed it on my desk. There it sat, silenced by smaller, faster, more mobile instruments. Still, I loved its sleek, strong presence, evoking thoughts of rainy night mysteries.
Sitting, working, when the quiet of the night was shattered by ringing. I must be hallucinating. It rings again.
I picked up the receiver…
At the end of a crappy day, I needed a warm lift.
I set my little espresso machine to go and went to shed my work clothes for my comfy on-the-couch-clothes.
When I returned, there was no doubt who understood me, who knew what I needed to brighten my dreary day.
Not a bouquet of flowers. Not a cheery card.
No, it was a cup so pretty, I almost couldn’t drink it.
But of course, I did.