The end of Summer

I've been lazy... mea culpa. I've often sat in front of the computer with the best intentions of writing but was distracted by numerous things. Once it was a fly. Ok, it might not have been just any fly, the thing was persistent, it kept landing on my arm or on the screen. It wasn't big or small, and apparently it liked our apartment so much that it survived for what seemed to be the whole summer, avoiding Nadir's magazine swats with mastery and my annoyed persecutions in a very non-chalant way.

Often when I sat ready to write, my eyes would wander and I would ultimately find something that needed my immediate attention: a plant needing water, an unwanted spec of dust, a pillow not fluffed enough. Another time it was the breeze. Yes, I sit next to a window and the summer breeze is one of those things that takes my mind to far away places. Nothing awakens my senses like a summer breeze. There was the garbage truck one evening that seemed to make more noise than usual, and I should also mention Mister Softee. Now Mister Softee is one of those NY things that brings out the best in you when you're 10 years old, and the worst when you're an adult.
Mister Softee, for all of you who don't know, is an ice-cream truck. It c-o-n-s-t-a-n-t-l-y plays this music that I always wondered why it hasn't been used in a horror movie. The first time you hear it it's almost nice, it reminds you that summer is here, that kids will be running outside to get their ice-cream and that everything is ok with the world. By August you're ready to grab a bazooka and shoot the damn thing (when there are no kids around and the driver is getting a cup of coffee mind you - no need for blood). And so Mister Softee makes me forget the summer breeze as I close the windows to keep my murderous instincts in check.

Right now, someone is listening to Andrea Bocelli in their car, loud enough for me to hear, and my first instinct is to get up and put the CD on, but no, I've decided that I would write today (saying absolutely nothing by the looks of it) and post a blog.
So here it is, an entry about flies and ice creams and my lack of concentration. It's the end of the summer, and that means, my dear friends, that I'll be moaning soon enough about weather and winter, writing about soups and hearty dishes, about classes and life. Nothing else to say but: I'm baaaack.