Ennui

One of my favorite words. Ennui. Along with Ouvre. Ouvre. They roll out of the mouth, and make me seem all erudite. Then I speak a little more, and disabuse the world of that particular notion.

I am filled with ennui today. I need to stretch langorously on a chaise longue and drink coffee out of exquisite porcelain, and eat small delicate buttery pastries. All while wearing the finest cashmere. In shades of delicate eggshell and grey. All seen through a sepia filter.

Instead, I drink coffee from a paper cup. I listen to Kenga revving his Muzzy motorcycle in the garage. I wear a somewhat itchy warm green sweater. And there is no romance of sepia on display.

It's just a grey day, and I'm sleepy. Already slept in and took a nap. Not much else to recommend it. It is probably about time to dive into the dvd collection and find something with Will Farrell. Or John Cleese. But no Bergeman. Even though that's where I really, really feel like wandering. I've had that discussion here before. The pitfalls are out in the open, obvious, and avoidable. But I still stumble towards them.

There are quite a few backfirey noises coming from the garage. I suspect that the dialing in of the carbs is being difficult. I would go help, but I really hate that kind of thing. Makes me grumpy. Which on top of having a Bergeman day, wouldn't be good.

Pirates. That's what I need - Pirates. Is there such a thing as Jamaican coffee- coffee with rum in it? Maybe it's time to start. Jamaican Blue coffee, with rum. Captain Morgan's if available. And a piece of pineapple on top. Wait- hold the pineapple- that sounds nasty.