"Yeah, cut it short then, Lilli", you may think, "what happened? Let's get it over with!"
Okay, here's the nitty-gritty... the past 24 hours in the life of Lilli:
Friday, May 28th. A day off work. I decide to take it easy, get a few errands and chores done, do the dishes, some laundry maybe. The apartment is a mess after my running off for three weekends in a row. But, no hurry, no fuss. I decide to take it easy, having the whole day at my free disposal. Maybe I can even bake a bread later on.
At 4pm I haven't actually accomplished much, stuck with the good intentions and the feeling there is all the time in the world... the wish being father to the thought, haha!
At 4.30pm my doorbell rings. Am I expecting visitors? Not that I know of...
I open the door. Chris. A friend of mine that I haven't seen in a while. Must have been before I went to the desert, March maybe? My first (somewhat subconscious and not very kind) thought is "Shit, this might turn into a bit of a time consumer...". Duh!! Not nice, Lilli... but those of you who know Chris also know what I mean. Don't get me wrong, Chris is a very dear friend, maybe one of my best... but we have to be realistic, right? There's no way making it short with Chris, nothing can stop her once she gains momentum, she's a natural force in her own charming way...
Within the few seconds it takes her to come up the four steps to my door, I try to come up with a new plan. My mind rotates...in vain. So I decide to just keep taking it easy and try have a good time with my friend, then go back to my chores. It's only the afternoon, after all.
"Hola, guapita" she says, "I saw you had the windows open and thought I'd drop in for a moment! I won't hold you up, no worries, a little pressed for time myself, preparing an exhibition, just a flying visit, really".
"Great", I think - "so that is settled", and relax...
At 4.45pm we sit on the pillows in my "desert room", the cups are filled with Karkade tea and the room is bathed in sunlight. "Life is good", I think to myself, "I'll have a lovely time now and then get everything done in the evening, once Chris is gone, perfect!"
We start chatting.
At 5.45 we have hardly covered the "essentials"... the desert, her recent exams, my work situation, her work situation, the banjo, her computer, the building site that her apartment is, the ruin that my house in the country is, my chores (that I yet have to get done...)
We find that we are really hungry.
At 6.45 we make sandwiches and more tea
We continue talking... and talking.
At 7.45 we both find that the sandwiches are really not that satiable and decide to order in.
We call Burak, our favourite Turkish restaurant, and order lamb chops and chicken kebabs.
I drop a vague hint that I really meant to get a few things done... Chris is rather pragmatic about it, she decides that until the food arrives we can as well sit in the bed room and I can fold away the laundry while she'll continue talking.
I bow to the inevitable..
At 8.45 the food finally arrives.
While sitting in the dining room, eating, looking at my oven, I suddenly remember the bread I wanted to bake. I make mention of this and Chris is like "well, naturalmente, we'll bake that bread!!".
At 9.30 we have finished our dinner and start baking the bread. In no time the dough is ready to prove and while Chris is flicking through my CDs, I think "what the damn!" and give two of my rooms a high-speed vacuuming. Yeah, how incredibly burgeois, I know...
After that, we take turns listening to some music, preparing the bread, strumming and picking instruments, searching the internet for layout software and whatnot.
At 11pm the bread is in the oven and needs to bake for 45 minutes.
Chris says, "Jesus! Have I really been here for more than six hours?? I definitely must leave, I got tons of stuff to take care of!" ... I say "Ah, what the hell - no fuss, no hurry"...
At 11.45 the bread is ready.
It's about midnight when Mic calls, saying he just played a gig and is now kind of "hyper hyper" and would we care to join him for a session or some dancing... we decline, saying we're about to call it a day and will go to bed every moment now. Ha!!
I have no idea what happens between midnight and 1.40am, but we end up viewing the Sinai pics on my computer. I'm drop dead tired. We switch from Karkade tea to Sage lemonade. It is disgusting. We still drink it, as there's nothing else in the house.
At 3.45, at the crack of dawn, Chris is finally leaving. The "brief visit" turned into 11 hours. Is it even possible?
Now it's my turn to be way too hyper to go to bed, so I decide to practice some scales, clean up the place some more and try find some calm...
At 4.30 I collapse into bed. The birds are singing and the sun is coming up. My final thought is "well, there's always tomorrow... nothing on the agenda, I'll sleep late, till noon if need be, and then do what needs to be done - no stress, no hurry"...
With that, I fall asleep.
Saturday, May 29th...
At 9.30am I wake to some deafening noise. It takes me a while to realize it's a Batucada... drums and agogos, cowbells and tamborims... a Samba band. But where... and, how? It sure doesn't sound like one of my neighbors playing a tape or whatever. I toss and turn and try go back to sleep but it's impossible, not with this noise - and my driving curiosity...
Once again, I bow to the inevitable.
I get up and more or less "waddle" into the kitchen... plod plod plod... having a hard time keeping my eyes open.
I look out the window and – to my surprise – see my friend Thomas and a tiny fragment of his Samba band (that usually includes a crazy amount of musicians) playing on the street, escorted by two police men. They are all dressed up like The Blues Brothers (the musicians are, not the police men). Not very Brazil, for sure...(look at me... somebody's real tired here!)
??????? (insert giant question mark in a think bubble over my head)
My mind cannot quite digest this. There was not a drop of alcohol included in yesterday's marathon hang-out, no drugs, no nothing. Sleep deprivation? I close my eyes ... open them again. The sound is for real, so is the band, playing brazil rhythms in strange black suits. I mean, what the hell are they doing (or thinking!!), playing Samba like there is no tomorrow at 9.30 am on a Saturday morning, in front of my house?? I have no clue. I still haven't. This is beyond me.
(yeah, I know... they do not look half as "scary" as they sounded, ha! Police sure doesn't seem much impressed now, do they?The lesson in this? No plans for today, other than hopefully succeeding in staying awake. Then again, what the hell ... things are gonna happen ... no stress, no fuss ... I guess I'll just take it easy, right?
