Believe me, you don’t really want to know me before I’ve downed these three cups in the morning. It takes three different concoctions to make me this fabulously effervescent, fascinating and gorgeous creature from the grumpy, sullen and dour monster that I really am.
I fumble around the kitchen, in the ungodly hour before dawn, put the kettle on, and have my first cup, warm water with a twist of freshly cut lemon. No, nothing stimulating is added to that, it is after all dawn, not dusk. So that goes down with a shudder and grimace and then the kettle is back on, the water boiling merrily, while yoga challenges every muscle in my being, new degrees of soreness enhanced with every painful stretch.
Where’s my tea?
None of that fragrant lavender, chamomile, exotic versions please. I want my chai, thank you very much.
An agonizing hour later, while I’m glowing with newfound health and vigour, I reach for coffee. I like it strong, do you mind? Yes, caffeinated. Yes, I know. Blah! Blah! And Blah! Take a flying leap, it’s my blood pressure, my life and eventually my doom.
Sip, guzzle, and gulp.
I’m ready for the day.
Thank you Dawn Miller for the very intriguing photograph, would love to know what the original context was.
A million thanks, Al, for hosting the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge. A joy to participate in, as always.