Today's joie de vivre are those hole-in-the-wall coffee shops in your town that don't describe their sizes in italian and whose customers don't seem to be in any great rush as they wait at the counter - in fact, they seem to have slowed down their pace completely once they walk into the doors. It's the sound of odd reggae beats thumping out of the coffee shop's speakers which is only to be followed Doris Day's rendition of "Que Cera". It's the taste of good - not bitter, not fancy, just good - coffee.
I've escaped my parents' home for a few hours and I can already feel myself returning back to normal. Maybe other people are more evolved than I am, but returning to my hometown for any length of time causes me regress to the state of a 17-year-old. I am incapable of waking before 9 am, I roll my eyes at practically anything my mother says, and I find myself reading alone in my bedroom and wishing I was somewhere else. It's nice to go someplace like this and 25 again.
I told myself I was going to work on some job applications while I was at the coffee shop, but I think I'm just going to appreciate my surroundings and all things joie de vivre a little while longer.
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