First draft lacked a title, the absence was inducing an obsessive disorder

An ode to the morning routine:







I'll admit it. Sometimes I go to bed with a casual smirk on my face at the prospect of enjoying my morning cup of coffee. 100 mg's of pure vein-constricting caffeine pulsating up to the brain in the morning is a paramount component of my daily constitution. But only one component. A man's morning routine is a sacred item, not to be tampered with. It also gives the meaning of "morning" a very relative nature. By my definition, "morning" includes, but is not limited to, the hour and a half time span after one wakes up, regardless of time of day. My morning doesn't discriminate against "mid-afternoon" or "late evening" and neither should yours. When I wake up, the first thing on my mind is successfully negotiating the hazy landscape of rug, hallways, and stairs up to the shower without tripping or smacking my knobby funny bone on whatever obstruction might be in the way. For some this might be a simple task but for me it's a test of physical and mental stamina as my recently awakened brain enters into battle with my activity-resistant muscle and nervous systems. Sometimes I think I might have been a stump in a previous life. On a typical day I have the primordial drive (survivalist attitude once again) to conquer my own inhibiting inertia and reach the shower. The shower marks the point of rebirth. In goes greasy-haired, puffy eyed, semiconscious and fully desensitized Josh, and out comes a rather dapper looking character smelling of coconut cream shampoo, with a suave disposition, and a slight ethereal glow. Kevin Derr once told me that showers get you slightly high because the water vapor created releases large amounts of oxygen into the air that you then inhale. Against my usual skeptical judgement, I have simply taken him at his word on this one. Regardless if it is true, I think I experience a placebo effect each morning and so emerge cool, calm, collected, and using the word "dude" in excess. From the shower I then proceed to the kitchen where I engage in the aforementioned drinking of the coffee. I like a standard two mug's worth: medium roast, dark brew, not too agressive a blend but something bitey enough that my taste buds have something to discuss with one another. I also like to have the morning paper by my side to add a level of sophistication to my ego, however, more often than not, I look down and see headlines such as "Centre County Dairy Princess Queened" and instantly regret my decision. I'm not a big breakfast eater but if I do decide to eat, my carb supplement of choice is usually the English muffin. As any experienced connoisser of European delicacies will tell you, every English muffin has two unique sides: the smaller and the bigger. This wouldn't present a complication if I didn't have two different spreads to apply, that of peanut butter and jelly, but alas, complications ensue. To make a decision on what side to give peanut butter or jelly would be like asking a parent to pick their favorite child. So I remedie the situation by making two muffins thereby giving me four halfs. I then apply each spread to a large half and a small half so no one is left out and then position them big-small-big-small, pb-jelly-jelly-pb, in a circular fashion around my plate. This is the only way to eat an English muffin and maintain order in the universe at the same time. Once the coffee is drunk, the muffins consumed, and the newspaper dissapointedly perused, I can then dub the morning as officially over. To preempt such a routine is blasphemy... especially with talk of summer reading for college... Mom!

currently wondering:

If I need a new hobby.

also, If paragraphs really aren't so overated after all.