The sweetness of doing nothing

It probably comes as no surprise that I fell in love not only with Italian coffee but those adorable Bialetti coffeemakers as well.

I was, however, on the fence about buying one; I wasn’t entirely certain I’d have room in my suitcase. But on my last day, I decided to take the chance that I could wedge it into my suitcase and headed for the Bialetti store in Pisa.

As it turns out, when you buy a Bialetti, you get a discount on coffee to go with it. Would signora like some coffee as well? Since the sales clerk had just brewed me a sample of that coffee, who was I to say no? I might as well go all in with the coffee and coffeemaker.

And, as it turns out, yet again, my purchase reached a threshold where I could get a substantial discount on another item. What was this item?

An umbrella. For a mere 3,50 euro.

Did signora want the umbrella as well?

People, people. An umbrella. As some of you know, umbrellas—in particular, sentient umbrellas—play a big role in The Pansy Paradox.

So, yes, signora absolutely wanted the umbrella as well.

My Bialetti coffeemaker and my new (sentient) umbrella.

If it had been anything else? Maybe not. Although the sales clerk clearly had my number at this point, so probably.

So, during my last weekend in Italy, I embraced that Italian motto (as noted on my umbrella): the sweetness of doing nothing.

It was pouring down rain. The following day promised sunshine, and I planned to head for Florence. But right then, Pisa was damp, dank, and dark. So, I did what the Italians do. I honored the afternoon break time. I brewed some fennel tea, curled up, and read for a few hours.