Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, when the Saturday night is a little chillier, and we don't leave all the windows open, and as a result, on Sunday morning we don't wake up neither to the church bells ringing from 7 on, nor to the neighbour's dog's sun salutations, but lazy around in bed because it's Sunday, because I gave myself the morning off from dissertation misery and you can't work in the garden in this heat anyway - those mornings be prepared to me rolling over, with a mild kick to your shin, because my spatial awareness is not very well developed, and expect me to tickle your collarbone and mumble to your shoulders. Probably not in English, but that doesn't matter, you would know that I'm mumbling something about breakfast and coffee, but you would also know that I don't want you to go downstairs and make it, nor do I want to go downstairs and make it, it's but an acknowledgement that mornings, breakfast and coffee somehow go together.  Those ar...

Dear future hubster, during our latest future viewing session with my Senior Talent Acquisition Advisor we concluded that you probably have an engineering background, sport a tattoo or two, and would enjoy taking care of the aubergines in our little vegetable garden when you're working from your home office. You are predicted to appreciate my Kakaoschnecke and give killer back massages. And would join us on the beach for a play of any logic or strategy game. There was no mention of guitar skills or curliness of hair.

Dear future hubster, those long solo drives (you know, the ones where you sing along to Adele and cry over Harry Styles and even give some credit to Ed Sheeran) can be an analogy to life, almost too obvious. Because what is happening when your cross half the continent? You are somewhere and want to get somewhere else. You know what you have to do, and confident you can do it. You also know that some parts of it are going to be ugly, or hard, or upsetting, occasionally even dangerous. You're also aware, especially if you've had similar experiences before, that you may not always enjoy it. You know that there may be events that you can't predict or prevent, and that they may change the course of your entire journey.  And if you're doing it right, there comes a moment when you realise that you're going through lovely landscapes, and although you may be sweaty and stinky and slightly dehydrated and over-caffeinated, that moment is all that matters. You know where...

Dear future hubster, after a certain age, long days of driving will inevitably result in sore lower and upper back, heavy arms and a generally cranky mood.  Meaning that when we are driving for long days, I will feel dirty, exhausted, and just beaten up. And will complain that my everything hurts.  You may try providing a solution to this by offering a massage (which, I suppose, is a speciality of yours), and I may hiss at you "Don't touch me!", because I'm sweet that way.  However, if you do manage to touch me and you do have The Touch, and my weary body will magically feel lighter, I will be very grateful. And I mean very grateful.

Dear future hubster, I was singing in the car (it was a long solo drive), and when Adele came on, I thought about how I cried over Someone Like You a few times. Who didn't? Anybody who didn't, needs to see a professional, and urgently so. That song is the reason why a Top 10 of Songs to Belt out in the Car While in Tears list should exist. Anyhoo, I thought about how raw the whole song sounds, and how she just says it as it is, and everybody (except those who need to see a professional, and urgently so) could relate to it and was haunted by it for months when it came out.  And how it still is beautiful and very, very much spot on, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Because both Adele and I and most of the others have reached a different level of emotional maturity. Very comforting a thought it was.  Then I cried a little over Harry Styles. Different times, different signs.