I love my life, right here, right now. I love how at home I feel. It has been a while since this has happen. More precisely fifteen years ago. Since I left my parents’ house in Madeira to come to Lisbon to study. That was my first, and only, place that I have considered as home. I am excited to choose the curtains fabric. Me? When did I ever like doing this shit? I do think that it has to do with the fact that I now feel part of something: part of the neighbourhood (there is not a day that I leave my house and that I don’t come across someone that I know), a part of my building community (wine from the fourth floor neighbour, honest smiles from the front door neighbour and a Portuguese friendly, handsome next door neighbour), part of a city who offers everything to everyone (thank you Lowry & Baker for preparing such amazing poached eggs and crab and for making me gain a few pounds; thank you Snaps & Rye for the amazing kedgeree; thank you Jubilee line for making us closer to our friends across town; thank you for the “I don’t give a shit” attitude, it truly would make a huge difference back home; thank you for your “no eye contact” tube policy, I can now wear what I want and it’s nobody’s problem or talking subject).
Need to choose some curtains fabric. Wish me luck. I have n samples that all go from not-completely-white to not-completely-but-almost-off-white. Easy.
And now Ja’Crispy has farted, thank you very much. And I called my parents and my dad told me that our football club was robbed by the referee, thank you very much fruit and sea bass boxes (Portuguese bribery currency) . And my nose is dripping making me look like Rudolph, thank you very much, dear husband. But the Nespresso guy delivered my coffee pods just now so all is good. Just not choosing curtains fabric.
All of this, prior to a beautiful dinner made by my husband. “Oh, you’re so lucky!”. Yes, I am and I deserve it. Behind a great woman, there’s always a great man. Period.
Got to go and gain some more pounds on my “junk in da trunk”.