No work

It,s not easy not having work after working morning after day after night. You don,t know what to do with yourself. On a normal day I wake up at about 6:15, just before the alarm goes off on my phone. I shove myself out of the bed and under a cold shower of water from a flexible tube that I hold in one hand with soap in the other.
Drive to the bar for coffee. Say buon giorno to Bella as she slides the coffee across the counter to me, good morning to Oliver, who walks into the bar five minutes after I do, drive to the big house to make breakfast. Eggs, cakes, coffee, hot milk, juice, yogurt, fruit, granola, make sure everybody,s happy, send them off into the world of Italy, clean up, sweep up. Shop for food, throw the bags in the car, walk over to the butcher, sit down in the red chair til all the ladies in there have shared everything they need to share, then I order the meat, drive back, set the table if I remember to, put everything away, sleep for fifteen minutes by the door in the dining room, wash the fruits and vegetables, chop, smash ants, prep, plan, wait, greet my weary loved ones from their day of wandering, pour wine, rustle up some snacks, light a fire in the barn, oil the chops, stir the risotto, introduce knife skills via “the hug”, whip clouds into cream,
encourage bottomless pit of love re cooking, encourage the leap of giving everything you,ve got, of smelling, seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, and wanting. Get it all on platters, pour more wine, light the candles, eat, drink, clear the table, wash the dishes, drive back to my bed and set the alarm.
This morning I got up anyway.

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