Another morning when you wake up and ask yourself “Why am I not in the hills?”, before you quickly answer “Because real life isn’t Instagram”.
Mornings are different. Not like the evenings when dreams are dreamt and beer mugs clinked and promises made of a life by the sea. You probably know that because whoever you are, the least you’ve done in your life is live through mornings and evenings enough to know how different they are.
Mornings are about hope, evenings about celebrating or coping, forcefully called “Happy hours” for those who need an alcohol induced illusion to sleep.
Coffee is not like that. It is not for the dreamer. After 2 sips, you want a to-do list. It’s a doing drink, not a thinking drink. You need it when you think more and do less. Maybe it’s just the resultant acidity that drives you to action, but it does.
See, I don’t have a boss, so these thoughts enter my mind. I work very hard to not have a boss, so that I don’t have to work hard.
For me the first hour or two after waking up are like a long commute to work. There’s traffic, dust, a quick breakfast, the Uber driver hasn’t come on time, the metro is delayed, colleagues are calling frantically because the meeting is about to begin and you’re the only one missing.
I navigate all of it to first create my own job list, then assign jobs to different people and and ask them to report back within a couple of hours. All these people are me.
So they get a little confused and take the easy way out: of watching Bojack Horseman with a big cup of coffee and switching whatsapp off, because that gives a sense of productivity.
If you’re lazy enough, you can turn coffee into a daydreamer’s drink.