It is a ritual of patience to refill the water as it slowly drains through the grounds. When the carafe is half filled, I remove the filter and place it into glass, then pour the initial coffee into my earthenware mug. Then I put the filter back and keep pouring the water until the water is gone, at which point the carafe is almost fill up again.
At this point, with water still in the filter, I go to the fridge to get the half and half for my coffee. When I open the door, the light from the fridge is usually the first bright light I see in the morning, even after being awake for nearly an hour, so it always a little startling.
I remove a spoon from the drawer to stir the half and half in the mug, then place it in the empty sink. Then I pick up the mug, which is almost full to the brim after putting in the half and hour, and careful navigate through the darkness back to my office room, where I put the bug onto my desk.
By this time, I can see out the windows that the sky is getting light. The sun will be coming up in a few moments.
I might normally begin reading at this point, but I don't like turning the light on, and it is usually not light enough yet to read by sunlight through the window. So I often open the iPad and load Gregorian chants on Youtube, and listen while I take sips of coffee. It's the first music of the day, on a typical cycle that might take me through the entire breadth of music history by the time I go to bed.
I like this time of suspension. Soon it will be time to work, but for the time being, there is just chanting.
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