Let me mention coffee for the briefest of moments. The quiet morning hours on a free Saturday allow much in the way of drinking and thinking, and perhaps much pausing, reflecting, sitting, and staring out of windows at rain and such. The clutter of the day has yet to assemble itself and the experiences of the previous week are digesting in memory. A night spent restless or unsettled about yesterday's errors and expenditures is now distanced, held at arm's length and regarded as alien to this quiet new yonder of a freshly brewed cup and gentle, consistent precipitation.
It's a wonderful trick of perception, of holding a mug of coffee and existing nowhere but right at the limit of its stained rim, yet somehow being more attuned to the Longer View, time stretching out leisurely in both directions with a life's tribulations and victories considered between sips. I'll get a bowl of cereal rolling soon enough, and the loud crunch and the washing of dishes and the making of beds will alert the day to get started. But till then, I sip in peace and am thankful for the time I have.