Do you have any morning “rituals?” Do you have any “rituals” at any other time of the day?
For some reason, I simply can’t escape from this image that I read while perusing the “Books” section at the UK Guardian earlier this week:
After our son has been deposited with his classmates and is busy doing whatever is on the menu for the day – fingerpainting or scraping credit card numbers or making IEDs out of common household materials – we drag our weary carcasses to a coffee shop to acquire the strong espresso drinks that are all that stand between us and total creative defeat.
I remember many a morning when I dragged my “weary carcass” to an independent coffee shop that was three doors from my apartment building on Chicago’s north side near the lakefront. And while I did not have the disposable income for “strong espresso drinks,” I was able to budget for a daily medium sized regular cup of coffee; in fact, I had to have it for my day to feel...right and proper.
(On those days when I could afford a “strong espresso drink” I always had to have an extra shot of espresso which was 50 cents).
For me, morning rituals come and go and often sneak up on me unawares.
For example, I tried to make it a habit of visiting the lakefront every morning when I lived only a ½ block away, but, at best, I would say that was only a weekend ritual; I could never sustain doing the lakefront visit every morning.
Nowadays I brew my own coffee at no set time BUT what remains a ritual is that the first cup of morning coffee has to be black; no sugar and no cream.
Usually, my morning begins just before or as the sun is rising, depending on my work shift and/or my activities the previous night. But, as a rule, I am awake when the sun rises, whether I am waking up or whether I am ready to go to sleep.
The only other thing that I do that I could call “a ritual”: I have a (now infrequent) habit of treating myself to a breakfast on Sunday mornings.
The Sunday morning breakfast is for me and me alone. I buy a Sunday New York Times and when my order arrives, I pull out The New York Times Magazine to do the crossword puzzle as I’m eating. Normally, I am a fast eater but I eat those particular Sunday breakfasts very slowly.
(I haven’t done this in over three months, as I am severely lacking the disposable income to maintain that ritual...but it is a ritual that lets me know that all is OK in the world, no matter what the Old Grey Lady is reporting on those special Sunday mornings.)
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