The usual muffin
A text sent this morning reads as follows: “At the usual place with the usual coffee and the usual muffin.”
Not complaining, you understand, but rejoicing (quietly) in the continuity of familiar things.
Acadia’s enthusiasm for well-worn paths is contagious, I’ve noticed, as when it’s time for her to drink from the bathroom faucet (during my showers), or to roll around on the rug (while I’m dressing), or to stand on my chest (upon my return from any extended absence) … a dozen or more opportunities every day, and she bear hugs every one of them every single time.