It's been nine days since I've been On Bar, and I miss it.
given, it was a love-hate relationship. Love and obsession of coffee, the Art of pulling an espresso shot, along with the process of preparing drinks.
Hate of a million hounding, complaining, and demanding people on your back. Inevitably destroying the process purely by you being over worked. Or as I used to call it, The Cluster Fuck of Espresso.
*Rule of Thumb, unless you're at an ick-starbucks, in Europe, or the espresso bar is automated... if your latte gets pumped out in two seconds flat, the quality of the bean/milk will be crap. aka: burnt/incorrectlystretched milk, incorrectly pulled/bitter espresso etc.
'According to folklore, the doll is thought to worry in the person's place, thereby permitting the person to sleep peacefully. The person will wake up without their worries, which have been taken away by the dolls during the night.'
When I was a Child, my mother had me use Worry Dolls quite often. My belief in their power was wholehearted. I cherished those little figures.
Daily writings have been absolutely necessary. The decision to leave my apartment and job has been a major emotional disruptor. (obviously) My constant dribble of regrets, anxiety, fear, bewilderment, tears, and foul disposition has physically and emotionally drained me this past week. Now it Must stop. the grieving is over, it is what it is. Now, to take pride in my choice for Change.