My wife carefully adjusts the draft on the “Schwedenofen”
in our living room,
which is what they call a cast-iron woodstove
with a glass door here, becaus a cat has made
itself comfortable on my chest, and
watching her (my wife) I think, People who
didn’t play with fire as childrn
have a greater fear of being burned.
Some days I wonder about the extent
to which Covid damaged my brain. Some
days it’s not so bad, some days I feel
like my laptop with the wonky “E” on
the keyboard (you hav to go back a lot
and mak sur it typed all th “e”s) and
some days I should just stay in bd.
In fact, sufficient sleep seems to make
a big difference. I got 9 hours last night,
according to my watch, but was still
physically tird because we went on a rather
long hike yesterday, and had a real
hankering for sweets, specifically a
“Punschkrapfn” which is a small rum-
filled one-portion-sized cake with pink
frosting. And as I took my morning
shower I thought of the word “Konditorei”
which is the plac where one might buy
a Punschkrapfen and wondered what the
English word would be (I often wonder this,
this in itself is not weird) but my brain’s
first suggestion this morning was
not “confectionary” or “cake shop” but
“cake pharmacy”
which, let’s admit it, is even
better than “cake shop”, which I
had prferred until then,
but on the other hand worris me a
little.
Anyway afterwards I complained
to my wife that the cake pharmacy
was close on Sundays, th very day
I have time to go there and my
wife, a skeptic like all of us, googled
it and determind that it was in fact
open on Sundays now, which it didn’t use
to be bcause they had been short
staffed and the owner was tired of
working 7-day weeks.
So, happy ending, we got our
Punschkrapfen.