I awake in a daze.  My alarm goes off and the morning sun shines into my eyes.  I am reluctant to move my tired body but I know I have to get up. 

I am in a complete fog as I journey to my bathroom where I splash my face with glacial, cold water—still in a slumber.  I brush my teeth and I wash my hands and stroll back to my bedroom.  I open my closet, get dressed, and tread downstairs.  It is not until I step foot into my kitchen that I am fully aware of my surroundings. 

I look up and there she is. 

The sole purpose of my awakening; the reason I am cognizant of the world. My espresso machine.

As I walk her way, I gaze at her glory.  She is the one.  I look up into my cabinets and choose the vessel for which her nectar shall rest.  Shall I go with a simple, clear mug, or the classy slate gray?  I go with the clear.  I drop a teaspoon of sugar at the bottom of the mug, to my taste.  I open the chest of capsules and the array of colors entices my senses.  Shall I choose the golden hazelnut, or the black roast? My palate craves the black, bold espresso capsule and I place it into its rightful place.  I then walk to the refrigerator where I retrieve the light cream and pour it into the apparatus.

I choose the “cappuccino” option and I let her work her magic.  Out comes a sweltering hot shot of espresso followed by a profusion of frothed and steamed cream, another shot of espresso then follows for the grand finale.

The aroma fills the air and my senses are satisfied.  I lift the warm remedy to my lips and my day becomes a reality.