I woke up feeling completely rejuvenated on this morning around half-past six, unable to fall back asleep. I was well-rested and excited for the new day ahead. Today was the day of our trip to Hjørring with Morten and Laszlo, and my anticipation was high. I made myself a coffee and a porridge with honey-baked apple pieces, sat on the couch, and gazed out at the sea.
The sky was slightly overcast, hinting at the possibility of rain. The slightly rough sea appealed to me. It was mesmerizing to watch how the waves continuously rose, seemingly reaching dangerously towards the shore.
In such moments, I felt like I was in a disaster movie, letting my imagination run wild – of course, a disaster movie with a happy ending!
I believed I actually didn't need any streaming service, at least not during the day, even though I was looking forward to mindlessly binge-watching movies and series.
After spending some time lost in my thoughts and daydreams, I decided to indulge in the incredible shower, jumping around naked, lathering myself with excessive soap foam, and afterwards, freshly bathed and anointed, I went for a walk.
I quickly put on my MoM jeans after the wonderful shower, which were a blessing for belly freedom, a black shirt, and quickly my hoodie from the previous night, along with my black Chucks.
This time, however, I didn't head towards the sea but in the opposite direction, where I examined the surrounding holiday homes. I had made up my mind to peek into the windows of any solitary-looking houses over the next few weeks, curious about their interiors. Those I could observe seemed each to be a real gem, decorated with love and an eye for detail, perfectly combining coziness and style.
These houses were truly a sight: nestled in the dune landscape, partly covered with grass roofs, they blended seamlessly into the natural surroundings. The combination of wood and green roofs gave them a rustic, yet welcoming appearance. They reminded me a bit of the Shire, which thrilled my nerdy heart. Of course, I was a little hobbit lady on the way to a dark adventure. Such stories were what I had always conjured up as a child, lost in play for hours.
Later, after returning, I spent some time on the internet before my curiosity led me to the sandbox and an adjoining device I wanted to examine more closely. There seemed to be a sort of clothesline that could be extended over a large area, which suited me as I could get acquainted with the washing machine. Considering the fine sand and the sandbox, naturally filled with beach sand, I thought it would soon be necessary.
Nearby, slightly downhill, I discovered an open shed that apparently belonged to the house. It was about ten to twelve square meters large and housed an interesting collection of items. Inside the shed, there was a small but fine workshop. A workbench took center stage, surrounded by neatly stacked shelves housing an assortment of tools. Although everything seemed a bit dusty, the arrangement testified to a certain logic and order. Above the workbench, there were more shelves with pots of paint, which looked as though they had seen better days, some contents clearly dried up. Charming cobwebs stretched between the shelves, adding a certain patina to the whole.
Suddenly, I was jolted out of my observations by the crunching of tires and turned around. I quickly stashed a pack of cigarettes, which I had forgotten in my hoodie, on a shelf between two pots of paint before stepping outside. There, Morten and Laszlo were waiting for me for our joint drive to Hjørring.
Laszlo took a running start when he saw me and ran into me with arms wide open, his head bumping into my navel; I briefly lost my breath, laughing. He always did that, quite impetuously.
I still had coffee in the pot and asked Morten if he wanted a sip.
Morten said that we absolutely had to eat hot dogs in Hjørring. A legend claimed that once you tasted these hot dogs, you'd always want to return. I liked such legends, although I thought Morten had made it up, which somehow made him even more endearing. It somehow reminded me of the legend of the Trevi Fountain in Rome, where the legend says that if you throw a coin over your shoulder into the fountain, you will one day return to Rome.
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Driftwood Love
रोमांसIn her thirties and burdened with a life that feels like an overstuffed backpack: a child she mostly raises alone, two main jobs, two side gigs, a shared apartment, and an ex who's chasing dreams with his modeling artist girlfriend. Not to mention...
