I filled the coffee machine hopper with coffee, poured the water in the reservoir, and turned the machine on. I woke up a little earlier than usual and fought the urge to try to go back to sleep. So I got up, making sure not to wake the kids, and headed downstairs. After five minutes of staring into space, I snapped out of it while the coffee machine wheezed and hissed and dripped the last of its fresh batch into the carafe. I poured myself a cup and walked to the front of the house, peeling open the curtains and standing in the window, sipping my coffee.
I was mulling a list of chores through my head, things to do around the house. Looking at the lawn through the window, I knew I was going to have to bust out some lawn equipment in the next couple of hours and manicure the shaggy grass. I knew I was going to have to cut down some dead bushes in the backyard. I knew I was going to have to do a number of other mundane tasks on my mental chores list. I knew this. But I continued to sip my coffee slowly and didn't move.
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