Tomorrow, I shall awake in my usual stir inside my slumbering quarters and amble my way down the passage toward the lower level of my domicile where my family will be partaking in their daybreak banquet of oatmeal and motionless toasted waffles accompanied by a convoy of syrup splatters on their serving dishes made of porcelain. My consort will tender me a goblet of roasted brunette extract of coffee bean. I will grudgingly accept this celebrated gift of morning, for it awakens the spirit in an immediate joggle of clarity of impulse. Next, I retreat into the adjoining chamber of solitude to address a task with the aim of appeasing the gods of nature. After my eviction of surplus fluids I meander back into the core dining region of the dwelling. I sluice the membrane of my hands to cleanse the community of microbes, which materialized on them so hurriedly. I pick up my goblet and haul up my somnolent appendage and in one deliberate action imbibe this magical blend of enchanting earth-brew. Without delay, the haze of morning recedes in a hurried swiftness toward the mystifying dimension from whence it came. All worldly objects scuttle away from my sight instantaneously and all that remains is my beautiful family staring at me in a funny manner.
Stick to de-caf when you’re typing, would ya?
I know the feeling, Rooves.
On a Sunday morning, I am often woken by the familiar buzzzz buzzzz… an insistant whine of an electric motor piercing my dreams. If that serves only to start me into semiconsciousness, the rich velvet of aroma gently caresses me to awareness of my surroundings. I float out of bed on the trail of that dark perfume and into the kitchen for my first cup of freshground espresso.
That was… beautiful.
grins y’know what? it’s actually like that most weeks… my friends are jealous.
You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Zenster…
Yes, that’s a real message from a list I’m on. Had to save it. 