Morning coffee time is wonderful. One of my favorite times. This morning, I'm sitting with my coffee and two dogs, browsing on my computer, and I am alone. Blissfully alone. Guy is at a swim meet, the boys are still asleep, and, for all intents and purposes, so are the dogs. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed my coffee alone; just me and my thoughts. And, truly, I realize I've missed it.
Not that I don't love my usual mornings lately: weekday runs before sunrise, and coffee at work; Saturday mornings chatting with Guy over coffee; Sundays on the porch with coffee and the paper. I love all of that, too. There's just something special about being able to savor the moment alone, and be content with it, while looking forward to my own plans for the day.
As I sit here, I've scrolled through my Facebook news feed, cleaned up my email folders, and peeked at my blogger stats. I almost opened Post Secret, but realized it's Saturday morning, not Sunday, and laughed out loud at myself. I've picked up the bits of trash the dogs pulled out of the wastebasket while Guy and I had our weekly hammock date, and resolved to tie it up and take it out after I remove my nail polish. I've debated the priority of altering the curtains in the living room--start today, or sometime next week? I've considered whether I want to do some more weeding (before or after yoga?) today, since the forecast today is better than the last one I saw for today. And how much time will I need to get ready for the wedding we are going to tonight?
Guy and I have an ongoing debate about which is the better time of day. He likes the moments before sleep comes, when he reviews his day, and mentally shuts down. I, on the other hand, prefer morning-time, when I can plan and reorganize my day, without the obstacles of other people's plans, wants and needs. I over plan my days. Not in the sense that I structure it too much. Rather, in the morning, the day seems so big, so full of possibilities, that I tend to want to accomplish more than will fit in the hours available. Funny, though, that is not the case at work: there I am pretty accurate in my predictions of how much I have time to accomplish. For that reason alone, I know it is not an inability to plan; more it is excitement at the vast possibilities, the scope of a blank day.
Especially one that is unexpected. I had planned on going to the swim meet today, to see Henry swim, but his shoulder hurts, and his physical therapist recommended waiting a little longer. Being at the meet would have taken the entire morning, and by the time we got home and got something to eat, would have taken us right up to get-dressed-for-the-wedding time. Therefore, this blank slate of a day is a gift, of sorts, and like a piece of artwork, I try many alternative spots before deciding to hammer a nail in the wall. Tomorrow I will immerse myself in a swim meet, watching Joseph.
Meanwhile, I will indulge in my coffee alone. Content.
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