This morning, early at about 3:30am, our little rat dog woke me with a whine. Instead of needing to go out, which I found only after going out, it was made clear to me that she simply wanted to play with her ball.
So at five or so, after accepting that sleep would only arrive after dinner, I made a pot of coffee. The day before I had noticed that the grinder, a little hand burr grinder, looked a little loose. So I tightened it, and this morning, after a very long grind, I found myself with an unexpectedly fine, black powder. That little grinder is the best, having lost nothing in over a year.
Part of my routine when I cannot sleep is to read, like many people. But i didn’t have a comforting book at hand, so with yet another marvel of the interwebs, I borrowed a book and immediately downloaded it to my kindle, which we bought a few years ago for the princely sum of $15. It remains one of our better purchases.
The book is The Commodore by Patrick O’Brian. His books consistently and without fail put me in a good mood, especially when drinking unusually robust coffee next to our slightly better behaved poodle. I am reminded of early mornings in Mango, when I would gently move Adam from the main cabin to my bunk, and enjoy the early day in near silence, broken only by my movements in the galley and the comfortable noises of the water and nature just outside of my warm and safe little world.
Back in our house, I found rather more coffee in my cup than expected when I too casually poured more, yet didn’t spill a drop. Perfect.
So far it has been a good day.
November 26th, 2017