Breaking Habit

Spring sprung a dull, wet gray, but this morning it is cool and crisp again, the nighttime temperature in the forties.  I sit and watch the sun come up drinking a "new" coffee.  For years I have drunk Kenyan coffee as it reminded me of Karen Blixen and her book "Out of Africa."  Yea. . . I'm like that.  But I am trying to reboot myself and break some of my habits.  It is a very small thing, but I decided to drink Sumatra instead.  "Really?" you ask.  "Are these really your concerns?"  I guess.  I believe in rituals, but sometimes they transform into habits, and habits are not nearly as much fun.  I'll rid myself of habits and start again.  Wait until you see my new ritual costume.  I used to wear a sarong (if I can find a picture, I'll post it).  I've wanted to wear the black silk pajamas from Vietnam but have never found any.  I've worn Bombacha pants from Argentina, but it is summer and I want something cooler now, something soft and baggy legged.  Perhaps some harem pants.  That might be just the thing.

And maybe I could set change my set from a brothel to a harem design.  See. . . breaking habit.  I might get inspired once again.  For it is Spring, when everything is. . . and the old goat-footed balloon man calls. . . .