I knew from the second the sun peeked above the sea that this was the day to finish the next great novel. Ideas were flooding my early-morning brain. I could hardly wait to open my laptop. Oh, I have mail.
After a couple of cups of coffee I think I hear the suggestion of a walk around Cap Ferrat. Wait… it appears that this is my suggestion. But the day is so long here that it does not seem like a serious adjustment to the day’s schedule. It will take two hours tops if we don’t stop for a glass of rosé on the home stretch. As we make the turn I notice my resolve weakening. Okay, one glass and then home; another fifteen minutes that soon turns into half an hour. Most of the day is still ahead of me. I didn’t plan on a lunch break, but it is almost noon. Nisette’s beachfront snack has the best Pan Bagnat in all of the Côte d’Azur. It is impolite to walk past without a short stop. Okay, I can be home by one. I will have the entire afternoon.
On the way home we pass two body guards protecting two infants in strollers. The guy in front is obviously eastern block and built like a tank. The muscles on his arms stand out like he just finished pumping iron. He sweeps us to the margin of the walkway by virtue of his presence. The trailing guard is no less impressive. About twenty steps after we pass, Jann and I burst out laughing. It was like being in a scene from a bad film. We talk about it all the way back.
Jann is at the beach now, allegedly giving me space to write. I am a little sleepy and the sofa is two strides away. Fifteen minutes of rest will make me a better writer.
You got to be kidding! Is it really three-thirty? I need something to chase away the fog of a lazy warm-weather nap. Tea or rosé seem to be my only choices. I wrestle with the decision for a few minutes and choose the hibiscus tea. The package says ‘heart healthy,’ which to me means, ‘you can have more wine later.’
My chair is a little too hard, so I get up to find just the right mix of pillows. I kind of like the greens, but the orange one is a little fluffier. Maybe just one of each will be perfect. My tea is cold now, but I drink it anyway. Then I pop a cork and pour the antidote into a wine glass. I am curious as to the time and note with some sense of despair that it is now six p.m. What happened to the day? I sit down to find my place in the manuscript. I take a few more minutes to scan what I wrote yesterday, taking only a few seconds to improve it and add a bit more color. The seven o’clock bells start to ring. I love this time of day, but I really need to get to work. I look once more at the blank screen, and then I switch to the news. What is Donald doing today?
