I woke up. I drank coffee. It was good.
I woke up this morning, had some coffee and it tasted delicious.
Once I finally awoke this morning, I dragged myself to the kitchen and made some coffee. It tasted exquisite and provided the spark I needed to get on with my day.
After a slow rise, I hesitantly left the warmth of slumber behind, trading it for the bitter sting of the chilly wood floors. With blurred dreams keeping a chokehold on my brain, and a hankering for a jump-start, my next move was all too natural. Standing in the kitchen, wiping sleep from my eyes, I dropped four tablespoons of Indonesia's finest fair-trade java into my French press and brought the yellow teakettle to a boil. As the hot water met its mate, the aroma alone was enough to spark my senses. Four minutes later, the liquid fell from the mouth of the stylish glass pot and into my trusty Polish coffee cup. One-step closer to full consciousness. With a tender puff of breath, the steam gave way to a black sea of delectable joe. I raised the blue cup to my lips, knocking it back with an uneasy hand. As it hit my taste buds and wound down to my belly, I felt my heart gain pace and my pupils dilate behind closed, satisfied, eyes. Just what I needed. Good morning, planet earth.
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