Not about porridge and living with bears
Sometimes the routine of working just gets to me. Things that worked last week, make me feel restless and irritable. There are days that even three cups of good coffee cannot fix.
This type of existential crisis can play out in different ways.
A few days ago, I decided to work at one of my favourite but slightly neglected coffee shops. The coffee shop overlooks a vineyard on a farm that embodies everything that makes my hometown a popular tourist destination. At this end of town, the city still feels like a village where everybody knows everybody else.
Nothing could be closer to perfect. A quiet autumn morning, outdoor tables covered in dappled sunlight, and the leavesjust beginning to turn. I am surrounded by soft music and indistinct fragments of conversation.
Ten minutes later (still working on a blank page), the sun disappears behind clouds and I am not sure if the morning breeze is too fresh. Then I notice a fellow freelancer, who waves me over for a chat. We have breakfast, but the clock is ticking. So after coffee I move to another table for a last spurt of productivity. Murphy’s Law, the table has a wobbly leg. Now, because I feel a little irritated (with myself), I feel like nitpicking and don’t tip the waiter for my third (final) cup of coffee.
Yesterday, I decided to renew my library card and headed off to the local library. Curious about the library’s potential as a caffeine-free alternative to a coffee shop, I took my laptop along.
My first challenge was that the library only opened at 9. I am used to coffee shops that open at 6:30 in the morning to cater for bikers and joggers who exercise before going to work. I waited patiently, feeling a little like a school kid waiting outside a headmistress’s office. At 9 the doors opened. I walked in (in a bit of a huff to be honest) and settled down at the back of the library.
The moment I sat down, all my huffiness evaporated. The table was just at the right height; so was the chair. Something I had never considered before. What an analogue moment. My table was so spaciousness. I could spread out, empty my bag, collect books off shelves and pile them up on my table. Everything was just right.
They call it the Goldilocks effect.
No view. Not a coffee shop in sight. Just perfect.