coffeecoffeecoffee

I love my little coffee shrine. It's so zen.

Monday through Saturday I get up in the morning, put the little filter in, put two rounded tablespoons of Folgers in the filter, fill the pot up with water to a little past the "2" mark, pour it in and turn it on. One spoon of sugar, two sloshes of creamer, and hot coffee into a cute mug like the one you see here, and voila!

Sundays I go fellowship with my coffee shop owner friend, Ian, before driving two minutes up the road to go to church. I like Ian. He's really, really cool. Don't know many Catholics, but I'd wager he's one of the coolest ones available. And he makes me good coffee on my coffee-making day of rest.

I don't know. Maybe it's that it's one thing, however small, that I can count on to ground my day. Coffee and quiet time. I don't even need it for caffeine - it doesn't have that effect on me. It's just... an innocent little indulgence into habit and routine that makes me happy. I even try to keep that surface cleared of other stuff just because, even if everything else in my life is a wreck, THIS little place I go to in the morning can be clear of clutter and distraction.

Coffee's ready.