A quick check of the clock says it’s time to get up.
I weave my way to where hot water soothes my crusty eyes.
More weaving — toilet, then kitchen.
Bleary eyes won’t slow me down — I could find the coffee machine with my eyes closed.
I choose a favourite cup from among my favourite cups, all lined up on top of the machine.
Plenty of water in the tank (I fill it religiously – coffee is a religion of sorts).
The pods nestle in a ceramic bowl I bought at our local market, years ago. The glaze soothes my soul.
I choose a pod (nothing magical or spiritual about the choice, just the top one), drop it into the machine, close the lever and pray that the precious liquid ends up in the mug and not oozing out the side of the device. The life span of these machines is about six months, then the paper towels come out to sop up the leakage. The makers give them away once a year to lure new customers from a crowded market. It works on me, but then, I’m not very bright.
Within seconds, the liquid starts to flow, and as long as I don’t hear a spluttering noise (like I make when I’m drowning), I know my coffee is not far away.
A spoon of honey, stir well, hold the cup in both hands and inhale the same way you do with a sixteen-year-old Lagavulin.
Take the cup and stand by the window, wait for the parrots to have a bath in the creek.
The sun has been up for quite a while, but the tall eucalypts make me wait for direct rays.
After bathing and squabbling over the best bathing location, the parrots will fly to a low branch and preen in the sunlight.
The voices in my head haven’t woken yet, so I’m free for the moment and the day is full of possibility.
My dog wants me to go outside, but he knows to wait until that first coffee is consumed, then it is time to play.
From there I wait to see what the day has in store for me. It may be a day just like yours. It may be a day best forgotten, but whatever it will be, it is another day and another chance for redemption.