It’s 8:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. Outside, the temperature has already climbed to a toasty 92 degrees. Inside, I’ve already killed my first cup of coffee and the cats are sleeping soundly.
One cat, Pip, is conked out on the dining table as he often is during the day. An hour earlier he terrorized his older fur brother, Arlen, and also clawed the crap out of my bed. I try to ignore these shenanigans but when you’re half awake and not quite ready to get out of bed it’s not easy to do.
And then comes the nagging from my body saying it’s time for the morning pee. I look at the clock. It’s 7:38. Fine. I’ll get up.
My muscles ache a bit from the workout the day before. My feet are sore and stiff, a daily occurrence since I tripped and fell three weeks earlier and twisted both ankles. I can’t tell if I’m 33 or 93 some days.
Within ten minutes of getting my lazy, still somewhat groggy, ass out of bed I hobble to the coffee pot and touch it to see if I’ll need to put my coffee in the microwave for 30 seconds. It’s still warm.
Hubby had left an hour or so earlier for work. On those mornings I often get cold coffee that requires me to warm it back up before drinking. Seems a bit silly to do things this way since I now have a Keurig but coffee that’s 1-2 hours old doesn’t bother me.
Speaking of coffee, as I write this my cup is still empty and I need that second cup.
*paused while I get more*
As I stood there waiting for the microwave I realize there’s enough for a third cup. Awesome. I don’t think I need it today but it’s always nice to have.
It’s now 8:53. A mere 23 minutes after starting this post. I had no idea where I wanted to go with this or whether it would make much sense. And I’m okay with that.
On days like today, ones where I’m calm and alert, it’s nice to just write. Even if the only person it makes any sense to me. Huh. Kind of sounds like my dreams lately. But that I’ll save for another day.