As recent as four or five years ago I would go to bed with calm anticipation for the next morning’s predetermined offerings.
Some days I would be looking forward to things like softball tournaments. Other days it would be to hit the hard court for some day long basketball. Sometimes crazy nights led to morning after trips to my favorite greasy spoon for breakfast (that was Colonel’s for all you people familiar with Joplin MO). Most days it would just be a lackadaisical wake up to watch Sports Center.
Last night before bed, I pointed out to my wife the further realization that I am getting up there in age.
Because now, every Friday and Saturday night when I go to bed with my wife… I think to myself, “I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow and make a full pot of MY coffee.” And what makes me feel so much older then those four of five years ago is that as much as I liked those things and looked forward to them… it doesn’t hold a candle to how I feel about that pot of coffee.
In all of it’s pretentiously priced caffeinated goodness.
And it can’t be just any coffee. Monday through Friday doesn't cut it because I’m drinking work coffee… a far inferior blend. It must always be whatever coffee I pick out from the gourmet section of my local grocery store.
Not only has my aging papillae habituated toward that little brown bean, but they’ve became quite the little “budding” snobs.
The awful play on words aside… this is proof that the older we get, the more life’s simpler things become the most fulfilling.
Luckily for me my wife is going through the same thing with men - J
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