I feel myself living through a moment of bliss, one that I would often associate with my version of peak-life. So below is my attempt to capture the moment as best I can with words:

A medley of jazz, soul, indie, bedroom pop reverberates through the 50 year old timber frames. You know it’s morning because the birds are chirping, playfully, incessantly … reliably. The sun is out in full force, traveling every centimeter of the 150,000,000 kilometeres across the empty expanse of space so that it can penetrate through the openings offered by your lace curtains. Reaching your skin, it is like the birds are singing for you. Vitamin D coarsing through our system. Content.

You take a look around, perched on a kingly recliner. Feet are up as a reward for the beating they went through in the morning’s run. The body is at rest. At quick check of the heart rate confirms as much. The mind is beginning to follow suit though all the endorphins that flood the system just a little bit earlier is making things difficult. Instead, your focus is razer-sharp, attention panning around the room. The clock has just ticked past 8:30am, and yet it feels like midday. It is a Saturday, taking things a little slowly is not only a luxury afforded on such days, but also a luxury that beckons engagement.

What do you do? There happens to be a cookbook lying on the kitchen counter, so you have a flick through. Friands, cookies, cakes, tarts. Mmmm. The energy pops out from the vibrant and carefully shot images. Oh so appetizing. You may not be eating, but it sure does feel like it as you gulp down another glass of water. That’s number eight for the day, and yet only 50% of what your watch says is your daily goal. On to the next I suppose.


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