Bum’s rush

I’ve been trying to kick my caffeine habit for a couple of years. I gave up tea and switched to coffee, one cup in the morning, but it seems to be enough caffeine to keep me awake for hours at night. The chance to spend a week house-sitting on my favorite street in Santa Monica where I used to live with Julia seemed the ideal opportunity to eat nothing but healthy food and drink no alcohol or coffee. Cold turkey. I’d have my own creative space as well. Brilliant.

Colin would be just up the road in our apartment and we could meet for dinner. But the best laid plans… the fridge in my holiday home was full of fancy cakes left over from a party. There were three bottles of expensive wine with a note attached: “Please enjoy these.” One of the bottles was open with just an inch missing. It was too tempting. I’d start again the next day.

On the first morning, I stepped onto the porch and bent down to pick up the newspaper, forgetting the cord was broken on my favorite baggy pyjamas. The bottoms fell down around my ankles just as the front door closed behind me, locking me out. I finally found a neighbor who had a spare key. “We’ve missed you on the street,” he said.

I did get some writing done and think I’ve finally waved goodbye to the bean and the leaf.