Hard Times

 "It's certain that fine women eat  

A crazy salad with their meat."   

Yeats, A Prayer for my Daughter

In an effort to shake off the lethargy caused by unseasonable heat exacerbating the mild depression resulting from my inability to procure the prescription meds in Tecate, Mexico that my doctor declines to renew on the flimsy pretext that they can cause undesirable interactions with other medications, I have decided to confront my sense of entitlement as a metaphorical slap to the side of my head and to remind myself that I actually have life pretty good. Let's see how that works out. 

But first, a brief catalog of my trials and tribulations. A while back, the icemaker on my refrigerator underwent a long and painful death. For almost two weeks - while I was grieving for this loss - I had to go without ice in my martinis. Although I survived this hardship, it was not without cost to my fragile psyche and my mental health.

Last week, another kitchen appliance tragedy befell me. My 25 year old Barista espresso machine passed away after, literally, giving its last gasp to make a lovely steamed latte for me and the kid. The next morning, no heating element, ergo, no latte.  Now, you might think that because there is a Starbucks within several blocks in several directions, I could take this in stride. 

But since the ice maker tragedy, I have grown older, and weaker, and less able to weather the culinary storms that interfere with my routine. And plus, it seems that morning coffee is more vital to my overall wellbeing than evening martinis. I mean one can always have bourbon at room temperature, can’t one?

As I sit here drinking my tepid green tea, I try to remind myself of recent discussions I’ve had with a cultural anthropologist recently returned from studying a primitive stone age culture and still suffering the shock of finding Starbucks in every third block and a Wal*Mart in every mall.  I try to imagine living in a crude stone hut with a dirt floor and no running water, not to mention no icemaker or espresso machine. Predictably, I fail.

Perhaps, when my new expresso machine arrives, and the weather cools down enough to permit me to spend more time in the recently renovated backyard, my attitude will improve. Meanwhile, I think I’ve taken a big step to recognize that I have the strength of character, and the survival skills to muddle through these difficult latte-less times. We’ll work on that sense of entitlement later.