I’m out of my favorite coffee and my new order won’t arrive until next week sometime. My world revolves around my being able to enjoy that particular brand of coffee and when any other coffee (with the bizarre exception of Tim Horton) is substituted, I’m simply not satisfied.
A creature of habit, I stumble out of bed around 6:30 each morning and the first order of business is getting myself to the kitchen to grind the coffee beans. Just the act of grinding those beans alerts my brain to start firing up the neurons, another day has arrived. The aroma of those ground beans puts a smile on my face every time. And we all know that when we smile, we automatically feel better. So there is a distinct correlation between coffee beans and my attitude.
Not only does the aroma and flavor make me feel better, just enjoying that coffee makes my day more successful. When I have my designated two mugs of special coffee in the morning, I know I will be able to accomplish whatever my day requires; chores, errands, school, anything that needs to be done. This coffee makes me happy. And, when I’m happy, Devoted Spouse and sidekick Puppy Girl are happy. The happy circle of life is complete — all because of coffee.
Conversely, without my coffee things go wrong. I’ve been out of this coffee for 2 days now and yesterday I was sluggish — couldn’t get much accomplished but a monster nap. Last night what happened? For the third time in 2 months, my glasses fell apart (how I detest Eye Mart). That means this morning I have an unplanned trip to the optical department from Hades to try once again to have these defective glasses fixed or replaced. The last two times this happened, I was also out of my special coffee. I’m not liking this trend.
Most folks in this country are hanging on until Tuesday because it’s Election Day. I’m hanging on until Tuesday because that’s when the coffee shipment is due to arrive. I have my priorities in order.
There’s a skirmish going on at our house. In my continuing quest for weight loss and better health, I have enlisted the aid of Devoted Spouse. He is the first one up in the morning taking care of trusty canine companion’s outdoor needs. It occurred to me since EmmaLou takes a morning jaunt around the neighborhood with Devoted Spouse, I should join them. What better way to ensure good health than a nice dose of exercise?
The problem is the two of them do the neighborhood at an ungodly hour of the morning — well before 6 am. I am of the mind that no one should be out and about before the sun comes up unless there is a pretty good reason, such as a donut run. Strolling the neighborhood should wait for sunlight. Otherwise, how will you be able to critique your neighbors’ lawn care, trash habits, what’s in their parked cars, or even peek in their windows?
Each evening Devoted Spouse gently reminds me that I have expressed a desire to join he and EmmaLou on their morning walk. I always reply in the affirmative. That’s the easy part. The difficulty comes in the morning when it’s actually time for me to get out of the comfy bed and step into the jogging shoes. Several times Devoted Spouse has tried to coax me out of my nice cocoon only to have me growl at him that I don’t want to get up. Then he gets an earful later when I discover he’s actually gone on the walk without me. Loving hubby that he is, he patiently explains how hard he tried to get me to awaken before he left without me.
I have come to a realization that there is a fundamental difference between my early morning habits and those of Devoted Spouse and trusty canine companion. Both of them eagerly greet the morning. They are the proverbial “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” duo. I, on the other hand, greet the morning reluctantly and with much grogginess, not needing much of a reason to turn over and grab a few more winks. Given these differences, perhaps I should give up on the first early morning walk of the day and simply take EmmaLou with me later on. That would be the simple solution.
Suddenly there are a million birds living in my back yard. I know this because they woke me up this morning before 5:30. Now, I don’t want to complain too much because the lovely songs of birds are infinitely sweeter than the sound of an angry winter wind howling, but come on, it’s 5:30 in the morning. Pipe down and let me sleep for 10 more minutes. No such luck.
I stumbled downstairs and made coffee. Looking out my kitchen window, it’s dark. It’s darker than dark. It’s 5:35 in the morning. The birds have ratcheted the decibel level up a notch. It’s nonstop chatter out in the backyard. And it’s making me cranky.
I’m not a morning person. Devoted Spouse will attest to that. In fact, many’s the day when he casually asked me something in the a.m. only to discover later in the p.m. that I had absolutely no recollection of the conversation. It’s best to remain somewhat quiet while I navigate through my brain fog and absorb copious amounts of caffeine. After a couple of hours I’m somewhat communicative, but I would never use the term “chatty” to describe me in the morning. These birds are chatty. Images of bird duct tape cross my mind. It’s soooooo early.
My mind wanders while the coffee brews. What the heck is so important in bird land that they have to jabber on about it hour after hour prior to sun rise? Is it a case of “I’m up and everybody else should be up, too?” Or are they announcing the latest additions to their little bird families? What can they possibly be discussing? Are they unhappy with my bird feeder? Is the neighbor’s mangy cat roaming in my yard again? Are they having a bird book club meeting? What? What? Maybe they have the same affliction as EmmaLou, the Golden Destroyer. She wakes up every morning with an unbridled joy at greeting the day and me. It’s as if she has short term memory loss and has forgotten how good it is to see me. Maybe the birds feel the same way and can’t shut up about what a glorious day it is and how happy they are to be alive. Or maybe birds can’t see in the dark and the singing is some type of bird sonar so they can all locate one another.
Wait a minute…what’s that sound? There is no sound. The birds are quiet. Maybe the sparrows flew off to meet up at McDonald’s and the robins are congregating at Starbucks. Hmmmm…a left-wing conspiracy perhaps?