Oh the dreaded Monday morning alarm -It blares at an ungodly hour; 4:30 AM like a foghorn in the silence....ok more like a bad radio station playing cheesy 90's hits, crackling from the bad connection.
Why so early?
To beat the insane heat of the desert. This hour is the only way I can get out and get my miles in before the crippling heat takes over. Once the sun is up, the hope of a workout is gone. The predawn wake up is a necessary evil of fitness survival in the desert.
So... 4:30 it is. Stumbling down the stairs... my household knows to step out of my path. There's no messing with pre-caffeinated mom. They won't win and they know it.
I make my way to the kitchen, pour a about a cup of grounds in the French Press Pot, wait for the water on the stove to boil, pour it over the grounds and then waiting... waiting... waiting... waiting for my first cup of thick mud-like liquid awake.
Yes. At this hour, I can't afford to be, nor do I have the awareness to be a coffee snob. The mud will suffice for now. The good cup will wait. It comes with Mary Sunshine. She is much more picky than the Grumpy Gretta, the Sleepy Sally, and the Moody Madge that call me their residence - at least until Joe serves the eviction notice...
