Not quite like a kid on Christmas, but still with a great deal of joy and excited anticipation, every single day I wake up and am SO happy about that first cup of coffee. Actually, it's all of breakfast -- it's the 1/2 and 1/2 microwaved for 20 seconds so that it's no longer cold, it's the fresh coffee, it's the toast with unsalted butter and honey.
Every single day begins in the same delicious way.
As a staunch creature of habit, I wouldn't have it any other way.
In fact, when I do have it another way -- say, when we go out to the dreaded brunch (ew, puhleaze) -- the rest of my day does not go as swimmingly. I am generally out of sorts.
I need that first-thing grounding with something familiar, something life-long: coffee and toast, hot and liquid, crunchy and melty. So many delicious sensations.
Today is no exception. I was awake at 1, really wide awake, and forced myself back to sleep. Since my rule is not to drink coffee before 4, really, then, what is the point of being awake at that hour?
At 3:53, I woke up again and felt happy. Only 7 more minutes to my favorite moment of every single day, to that first cup and its fresh taste of optimism.
Oh, what won't I accomplish today?!