One mug of dank coffee
and the first hour of one day in human life on midwestern Earth
|Aug 16, 2019|| 2|
Larry is out of town this week for work, which isn’t uncommon, but always looks different for me here at home. When he’s not here I tend to try out new routines and habits, nudge the boundaries of the days we usually spend together.
I’ve spent my mornings this week testing what turns out to be an extremely satisfying morning routine, which I will now describe to you in detail because, as I’ve reminded you before, you subscribed to this:
An extremely satisfying morning routine
As you’re inevitably turning off the light near-midnight despite telling yourself all day you’d go to bed at literally 8:30 tonight wow how good would THAT feel??, say HEY GOOGLE, SET MY ALARM FOR 6:30. We stan a 6:30 alarm no matter the bedtime.
When your bedside assistant wakes you up after a long night of harvesting your dreams, say GOOD MORNING GOOGLE and listen to the hell news from your hell device as you thumb through hell news on your handheld hell device. This part shouldn’t go on too long (like two minutes is the limit) before you:
Get up, make the bed, open the bedroom curtains and gaze upon the world, which ideally is sunny and nice but hey, just isn’t all the time and that’s part of it. Say HEY GOOGLE, STOP THE NEWS and then give the camera a wry look like “wouldn’t THAT be nice!!!”
Go downstairs. Open the remaining curtains as you move about the house. Pet the cats, who chirp at you. Remind them that you’d die for them.
In the kitchen, measure out three tablespoons of coffee into the French press, which is either 16 or 17 grams. Yell ALEXA WHAT’S (16 or 17) TIMES 16?? despite literally doing this every day because what, are you supposed to keep a three-digit number in your head? Life is hard enough it’s fine!!!
Fill the electric kettle and let it boil. While it’s warming, take your vitamins even though you don’t actually “believe” in vitamins. Maybe vitamins believe in you! Drink the whole glass of water. Look at you, drinking water!
Pour the Bezos-recommended amount of hot water into the French press, replace the top and say ALEXA SET A TIMER FOR 4 MINUTES as you pour the remaining hot water through the drain with the garbage disposal. Look at you, maintaining the garbage disposal!
It turns out four minutes is enough to top off the cat food and clean the litter box, sorry.
Prep your coffee mug with a splash each of half-and-half and the Bulletproof oil you forgot you had in the pantry until recently.
When the timer goes off, yell at Alexa to stop it. Apologize to the bewildered cats for talking so much to digital devices. Vaguely think “we shouldn’t have these things” and immediately let those thoughts dissolve like clouds in the sky. Another day!!!
Plunge the French press and pour your coffee. It’s fine to leave the press in the sink and wash it tonight.
Take your coffee into your office, where the morning sun is either passively leaking or shining with enthusiasm through the windows.
Sit at your desk and open your journal and open Spotify.
Choose your music for the morning, probably Daily Drive despite the fact that it just kinda plays the same 15 songs every day, no?? It’s fine.
Take a sip of your gorgeous coffee, the one delicious, dank, greasy, life-giving mug you’ve prepared for your worthy self on this absolutely new day.
Write the date, day of the week, and time just like you’ve done at the beginning of every journal entry for decades. If it’s Friday, maybe add an exclamation point!
Write whatever the hell you want. Pause to check your email or browse Spotify for other music to listen to or stare out the window or pick up the cats and bury your face in their fur. Drink your coffee. Revel.
The last step repeats until about 8:00, when it’s time to get ready for work, at which point you feel cared for and expunged and warmed and established as a person, enough to exist in the world.
I love you,