Wake up in a fuzzy bathrobe with coffee brewing in the kitchen. None of that fancy french press coffee. Black drip coffee that tastes slightly like burnt peanut shells in a nondescript white mug that has miniscule cracks for character. Glazed donuts and a cigarette would complete the picture. I don’t even smoke. The donuts are in a glass-domed stand on the kitchen counter. A newspaper graces the counter. Stocks are bullish. Thousands killed due to __________. ______ Sports team headed to the national championship. Another day in the news. Throw away the coupons. Who uses coupons, anyway? Another sip of coffee.
Wake up, Plaat.
No black drip coffee. Preworkout speeds 250mg of caffeine to my brain faster than you can say “Caramel Macchiato” and I’ve already walked outside with my dog for the day and done some beyond-last-minute-holiday-shopping. Rowenta. Can’t beat those.
My coffee/donut wake-up fantasy was rudely interrupted by the sound of buddy kicking around his dog bowl, ready for food and water. Even my fish glare at me from the outsides of my iMac, asking for their morning meal. All I wanted was coffee… Suddenly, it dawns on me and I have a whole new appreciation for the sacrifice my mother made as her proverbial fish and dogs rudely interrupted her mornings with demands of breakfast, entertainment and the desire to feel loved. Thanks, Mom. It took fish and a dog, but I am finally starting to get the picture.
The preworkout kicks in and I try to remember what flavor of cologne was my morning pick. Armani Code. It’s the go-to favorite amongst its 10 brothers. A deviation from the normal? Perhaps. It’s Friday, January 2nd and nothing about this year is what I imagined it would be, last year. Deviation is the sincerest form of flattery. Sweet mornings have been replaced by rainy gray days with cold wind that wisps in your ears, reminding you that the endless Summer isn’t here…yet.
Pass through the gates of preconceived judgement and you’ll enter the inner courts of experience. Stand up. Blink. Your eyes are open to something new that you didn’t know existed just a few hours ago. So this is how it feels. The truth that passes understanding. Truth is understanding. Preconceived judgements are so passé these days. Blink. Blink. Blink. 48 moments of clarity remind you what it felt like before making that beautiful jump. Jump. Jump.
Featured Image From Deviantart