Myself, I preferred to stay indoors, listening to the hum of morning traffic as one daughter prepared to go to work and the other – moved about this way and that.
Feeling insanely stuffed, I did the rare thing – I passed on breakfast, coffee, the whole thing. The couch seemed like a fine alternative. Listening, enjoying the buzz that was/is outside my own head.
By noon, we set out in search of food. Tryst was perfect for the afternoon after. Packed, with a humming crowd. Of diners, lovers, Net surfers, you name it.
Feeling deprived (of breakfast, not food), I ordered this:
Why do I mention it? Because it was a guiltless pleasure. There, in a room of people who seemed hugely comfortable with... life. That called for a large waffle, don't you think?
I took a long walk afterwards. Everyone at home was working, but I chose not to. Down 15th, 16th, 17th, Conn, Mass, P, O, N, finally onto M and across the bridge, where I became like so many others – a shopper, briefly, just like those around me, pulling out the old plastic card and walking away with a paper bag.
We all think we are such nonconformists.
nodding my head - yep you got me there. I'm really not the only noncomformist. There's this one and that one and those ones and . . . all doing our thing.
ReplyDeleteThere, in a room of people who seemed hugely comfortable with... life.
ReplyDeleteWhere are the black people in D.C. ? And who was working that kitchen?
Comfortable, indeed.
Anon (please use a name in the future): are you asking if there are Black people in D.C.? Or if the people at Tryst seemed comfortable? Or if there were Black people being comfortable at Tryst? Or if there are a lot of people who are less comfortable in D.C.? Because the answer is yes, to all four. Surprised?
ReplyDeleteI loved all the food and eating comment and photos followed by the weight limit street sign. I should have put one up in my kitchen after Thursday.
ReplyDelete