A quiet rainy morning begins gently. My arthritis pain has flared up, because, of course it has. No arguing with rainy days, chilly nights, or autumn, generally. Summer is fading fast.

My coffee is very tasty. I enjoy having the espresso machine up and running.

Work seems to be proceeding in a pleasantly routine way, in spite of spending the majority of my short week in training. That bit, by itself, is fairly stimulating, almost exciting. There’s something about learning new things that are useful that “wakes me up” in some way that is just a bit beyond the usual.

Not a fucking thing about this morning is “ultimate”, “epic”, “amazing”, “tragic” – or any other adjectival excess. Life is far less commonly extraordinary than it is quite routine and average, although a quick glance at the morning headlines would lead one to expect quite the opposite is the case. I frown at the screen in front of me, resenting the constant “advertising” and manipulation. I turn that on myself with no ill-intent; I use a lot of fucking adjectives, myself. ๐Ÿ˜‰ Perspective? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe consumers burnt out on hyperbole are hard to market ideas, goods, and services to, or harder to engage, generally? (Myself, I use adjectives primarily because 1. I naturally use them when I talk about things, and 2. I’m trying to communicate the contents of my thoughts to someone who can’t share those directly in pictures, or emotions.) (I do over use them like crazy, I’m not unaware of it. It is about sharing, rather than persuasion.)

I let my consciousness move on.

I woke to the alarm, this morning. Once I reached the kitchen to make coffee some minutes later, I was irked to note I’d left dishes in the sink. Not okay (with me – ย your needs, and results, may vary). Well shit. Clearly not “epic”. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Nor is it “the ultimate” anything at all. It’s also not “a colossal disappointment” – I’m just mildly annoyed with myself for having let them go until morning because, well, I hate that messy shit, specifically with regard to dishes in the sink. It’s to do with me, and what I value and appreciate for quality of life. I can do better for me. I sigh quietly in the morning chill, and promise myself coffee once the dishes are done. I feel grateful that I had turned on the heat after returning home to rainy autumn weather, Sunday evening. It is in all respects a fairly ordinary morning. I’m disproportionately pleased with that as the day begins; it’s enough.

I sip my coffee. An Americano this morning. I listen to the rain fall and the “ssssshhhh ssssshhhh” of cars passing by on the street. Busy street at some times of day, busier than I’d like. No kidding; I’d love to have some acreage to get sufficient distance from all the goings on of my fellow human beings to hear only bird song, breezes, and the sound a leaf makes when it hits the ground. lol That’s not going to happen here. I love this little house, and I am content, but it can’t be described accurately as “quiet”. It is not. The moments themselves are somehow quieter than the environment ever is, generally. The quiet I do find is the sort that is cultivated within. For now, and most of the time, this is enough.

I look at the clock. It’s still dark outside. Nonetheless, I decide to get on with things. It’s not “epic” timing, it’s not “the ultimate moment”, it’s not “an awesome opportunity”, and I’m not expecting an “amazing experience” – but it is an adequate moment to begin again. ๐Ÿ™‚ That’s enough.