Musings of a Compulsive Thinker

Mornings

I wish there were more hours in a day. Then I could get everything done that I do now, and I'd be able to get in my required 8 hours of sleep. I like mornings, as long as I'm well-rested.

That's right, I'm a morning person. When I have the time. I love my bedroom in the summertime, when I leave my window and curtains open to the sunrise. There is nothing quite like waking up, sans alarm, to warm sunlight on your face and a cheery birdsong drifting on the air.

I think my perfect morning would happen like this:

I wake up, comfortable, well-rested, before my alarm goes off, with the pleasant realization that I have no obligations for the next few hours. Winter or summer, the temperature in my room is perfect: I'm not shivering, but it's just cool enough that I'm happy to wrap myself in a light fleece pullover and step into a pair of cozy slippers. The sun is barely risen, the house is blanketed by that peaceful quiet of early morning. In the kitchen, I turn on the coffee maker and set the oven to preheat. There are biscuits, ready-made, waiting in the fridge. I stand in front of the sink and stare out the window at the lightening sky. Hopefully there are some birds poking around a feeder in a tree. My dog (or cat) comes wandering into the kitchen after me and settles down on the floor at my feet after a brief pet on the head. When the oven *dings* (yes, I like ovens that *ding*) I slide the pan of biscuits in and set the timer (which also *dings*). By now the coffee is done, so I pick my favorite mug out of the cabinet and pour myself a nice steaming cup of hazelnut. One spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk (or cream?) later, it's perfect. So I stand against the counter and smell my coffee (mmm, hazelnut) for a few minutes while I stare out the window some more and watch the birds. Right about now, someone (mom? dad? sister? husband, someday...) comes into the kitchen, lured by the smell of hazelnut coffee and baking biscuits. I get a hug and a "Good morning."

Why can't all my days start like this?

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Labels: everyday, food, imagine yourself here, ponderings

posted by the alygator @ 11:21 AM