I've done it again. I didn't mean to, but it's happened again. I must be cursed.
I find these wonderful little restaurants and spend a few hours on a certain day writing. They aren't busy enough to make me leave my table after my meal, but they also are not 'hurting' for business. At least, I never think so. I eat my meal, have my coffee, write, and leave a generous tip.
But time and time again, the restaurants close.
Today, I am again without a favorite restaurant. This is at least the fourth time this has happened.
Now, I don't suppose I can take all the blame. The recession has done wonders for the family restaurant. Sadly. People can't afford to eat out as often, so they go to the chains that might have lower prices. Yet, the family restaurant serves a good meal for a decent price and usually welcomes with open arms, their customers.
I sigh as I write this. I've got to find another restaurant soon. I write at home - who doesn't - but taking my story out to a different location gives it an added depth, a refreshing momentary glimpse into something else. I consider my workroom as quiet and good for writing, but after awhile, the trees look at me and refuse to move me. Perhaps it's the snow. I need some green. I get that at restaurants. A different view of life.
Life is good, if interesting.