Even after a night in which I've found myself quietly steeping in the frothy goodness of a PTSD-stirred stew chock full of chopped up memories, followed by the delicious1 dessert of restless, nightmare-filled sleep, I can still stand in front of my bathroom mirror in the morning, shaking the cobwebs from my head while examining the still tender and slightly bruised parts of my psyche and all of a sudden think, "Oh! There's coffee - GOOD coffee - in T minus 5 minutes."
After that, I know it's a new day...a good day...with cream and sugar.
1: The scissors are a part of it.
1 comment:
As life-affirming as good coffee is, the other side of that coin is revealed when your psyche is confronted with a broken coffee maker... it's not pretty.
Post a Comment