Column Carrie Bradshaw in Bullerbu

My friends call me love to finicky Interior-mutton, constantly everything must be tidied and rearranged, clutter makes me unbalanced and sad. Since a few days a wooden railway from around 95 items cuts but across the entire living room and a gilded Saint Sandals of Laurent, to the kitchen, where a red locomotive in the minutes does stop, to invite new grapes. Anything is so obviously different than before. My apartment anyway, blossomed in large steps to the Villa Kunterbunt, including elegant crayon paintings on the walls, a native American tipi next to the sofa and Duplo stone mountains on the bedroom horizon. But doesn’t matter. And just yesterday, I was sitting between three children on the floor of a porch in the Greens, one naschte strawberries and clean wiping the finger on my favorite dress, the other two built a tower made of collected stones, übermannte paired robbed me me for the first time since weeks something like spiritual relaxation with beautiful indifference, not even the 17 wood splinter in my foot my new pensioners smile. Explanation: Lios Kita has adopted during the holidays, I’m so very deep down in the 24/7-Mama-boot. One, you may hardly believe it, completely new experience for me.

Every day us remains a Sunday, no air time for intimacy between my laptop and me and all the E-mails, or the adult thing making just the night. Paradise a find, I, however, had to pinch fixed together both ass cheeks alone at the thought of these fourteen days – until I naschte at some point on the self-picked lettuce and went over from sheer bliss as by themselves to the flower moulding. Hell, this is beautiful. I was just doing, even if entertaining life throw add, less work, more child, lesser town, more land, as me this new someone from the other corner of the garden flotete something like „ Sauschön, but think about it, this is our life now really. We are in a private park, be be trifled with 2-year and clapping hands, if one makes it to the potty. “ at this moment, the image of the zonk before my inner eye pushed up inevitably. Know, go the whole hog, the guessing game of the time. The corresponding looser song was in my head suddenly louder than Bob Marley three little birds.

We are now really big, I thought, closely followed by: I want that at all? Can you ever know what you want? Will I actually prefer techno? I odds with me, as it the indecisive Tomas in Milan of Kundera’s „ did the unbearable lightness of being, „ until he finally said it was quite normal that he didn’t know what he wanted. You never know what you should want, because you have only one life, that you can compare with past life nor in later correct. “ it’s also not like any error would happen here. Life happens. And this is first of all good. Is just stupid things going so fast and another not fast enough. Always someone expects a decision by us: baking cakes or contracts to sign, keep handbags or put a few chickens, a child into the world or no child or a whole children football team, home, yard or townhouse, Cafes on the doorstep or platter lawn. What do I know. Where but anyway already tomorrow a new day has dawned, with new ideas, new desires, and goals. But if one does not loose and incessantly after a response is hungry, then I have one now ready: at some point I’d like to be a kind of Carrie Bradshaw in Bullerbü. Sweep in the bird of paradise twine through real life, career and error making Apple streusel cake, Lio prepare the most beautiful of all childhoods, even child remain. I’ve imagined getting the best of both worlds for the future. And as I sat there, between cherries from the garden and the three organ pipes, this column in the head and a cyclist in the hand, I felt a little actually arrived. Rarely a 10-year plan, which anyway has always missed, so void I felt like yesterday. No need to panic so. The zonk disappeared out of my ear and the flaming lips were what remained: all we have is now.