My day starts about the same way every day. And I like this start. I kiss the husband. I get up. I change in to some riding clothes. And to be quite honest, as often as I have worn them the washing does not always take out the stink. I’m not sure why I feel the need to be this honest about my clothes stinking, but there it is. It’s all about honesty. I ride my bike for fifty minutes. I sweat like a pig if a pig could sweat. I note the miles in my workout journal. I read, write, and watch news and/or films while I’m riding.
I go to the kitchen and pack my lunch. Start my coffee. I go to shower. Due to my modest sense of self and your not needing that kind of detail we’ll just say I shower and get ready for work. Done.
I go back to the kitchen. As of late Husband has started making my breakfast. How incredibly sweet is this? Pretty stinking sweet I tell you. Okay, not “stinking” like my work out clothes. But stinking as in awesome! I eat my breakfast. I say goodbye to Husband. It takes a minimum of three goodbyes to Husband. He can not say goodbye once. It’s a “thing”. I put my work ID around my neck. I put my lunch bag on my shoulder, keys in one hand, coffee in the other hand, out the door I go.
Drive to work.
Go up three flights of stairs. By the way, thanks to adding carbs back to my diet I can now master the stairs heart attack free.
I sit at my desk. Turn on my computer.
Take a drink of coffee.
And this entire blog was just to tell you that today, my morning this morning, was turned in to turmoil.
My coffee was not there.
Seems simple. Seems not a big deal. But it totally threw me off. I had to rethink the rest of my mornings steps. I had to remember to do things that normally just fell in to place. I didn’t panic, which surprises me. I pulled out my diet Coke. Took a drink. Mmmmmm good stuff. But it wasn’t time for the diet Coke.
Then my phone rings. Husband. He says “how is your morning?”
Me: “not bad considering I left my coffee on the counter?”
Husband: “well if you come to the back door of work I’ll hand it to you.”
And my day’s order was set straight.
Not by the coffee. But by the hand that hands me my coffee. Consistently considerate. Consistently patient. Consistently making my life better. I like the start of my day. Every day.