justwrite 5 november

Irynka asked me what I would write next. I said that I needed to think about it first. She said that I should write about a hotel, and that I bought ice cream and cappuccino there. Irynka says that she will write with me. She also wants you to know that today we went for a walk in the park. We also ate borsch today. “Look how much we wrote together,” she points out. Her mom and dad point out that it’s time for her to go to sleep. If Irynka wrote a story, lots of interesting things would happen in it. Going to a hotel and buying ice cream and cappuccino there does sound extremely glamorous, probably. I don’t think that she’s ever stayed in a hotel. Once she did go to the circus in Lviv, though. I’m not saying it’s the same thing. Anyway. Having past a certain point in my life, however, the hotel scenario just doesn’t feature in my fantasies. When was this point? Age 10? 20? I’d hazard a guess that it was some stage at which I had enough money to make this ice cream and cappuccino situation come true, but also knew enough to realize that a hotel is one of the most expensive places to buy food. Mozhlivo, meni shkoda, but maybe it’s not actually a shame to me. I’m free from paying outrageous prices for dining on opposite-temperatured foods, but I’ve outgrown some of the freedom to make such ridiculous choices. I over-think, over-plan, over-worry way more than is necessary in most situations. Don’t misunderstand—I consider myself a fairly creative person and pretty open to trying new things in general. I’m working on balance. In the meantime, I consider going to a hotel and ordering cappuccino and ice cream.