Before I got to sit in front of this screen, typing to you, world, I was dressed for work. I cleaned six stalls in thirty minutes, turned 26 horses into their stalls from their pastures and fed them their breakfast. In my world, animals eat first, because they are dependent on your work for their well-being. The world was, and still is, quiet. We’re waiting on the rain reported for today.
The half-pot of coffee that just finished brewing is the first made in my apartment in some months. I weaned myself off when I felt I was getting dependent. Today, I just want the warmth and the taste. It will be strong – five scoops in six cups of water – but I never drank weak coffee. 354 is still asleep in the bed. When I came back from my morning ritual, I took the laptop and sat on the floor. I hate waking him up. I feel guilty, especially when he has to work tomorrow night.
I have food running through my head. French toast, made from slices of the fat loaf I made the other night. I’m on a French toast kick – yesterday I had French toast at IHOP, along with half his pancakes. (He’s never a very big breakfast eater.) I saw my mini-muffin tins a second ago as I was looking for the coffee filters, and brownie tarts popped into my head. Of the Baker’s Banter variety. Will they stay soft and moist, or will the size of the depressions make them firmer? I’m curious to know. I have to cook something for supper, a large Sunday supper, so we can have a few days of leftovers. There are two pound pork loins in the freezer. I need to make a grocery run. I need to pay bills.
Life starts over again tomorrow. Work, barn chores, martial arts, obligations, test day, packing slowly and urgently. My camera is dead, without batteries to recharge it, and I don’t know where the rest of my rechargable ones went. The register for our checking account needs to be updated before I pay anything.
Right now, I have my cup of coffee. It’s as strong as I wanted, and the world is quiet, and I am happy.