where's my coffee?

neighbors,
every single day,
i wake up to crabtree complaining about something.
he's too cold, he's too hot, he's uncomfortable, he has to go outside...
it's always something.
always,
and that makes sense,
since i'm an always-person.
no?
it means both a morning and a night person;
and then also afternoons, too,
while i motormouth my way through the sit-stillness of the tattooing times.
plus,
if we're being honest here-
(and we always are, because this is where the truth gets told truly.)
i want to get more done than i actually get done,
and that means there's no laising about allowed.
so,
i'm up early,
and i get it going on pretty darned good,
but,
my wakefulness is initiated by complaint,
and coupled with my own synchronized two-part harmony of discord and disquiet.
(it's possible- think sonic youth, but as a middle-aged man)
that's a tough way to start the day,
but,
it's a very up-front reminder that there are no easy days,
at least, not if you're really doing your best to be your best.
if it's easy, you're not challenging yourself nearly enough.
that's real.
every day, from the minute i wake up,
it feels like volunteering to spearhead a suicide mission,
only,
over and over and over and over....
i'm reppin' a permanent viking berserker valhalla hunt for virtue and value and victuals.
especially those vittles, kids.
yes,
it's sort of  hard style,
but,
when the elements align,
and the oven cooperates,
even the roughest bloodshot battle-beastly morning,
and the longest darkest tossingly turniest night
are a-okay,
because there's treats to be enjoyed in between conflicts.
ha!
friends,
check the teleport:

BAAAAM!
coffee, and roasted crushed coffee beans, and instant coffee, and coffee extract,
in a couple of cakey cakes, for you and me and everybody.
yum.
baby bundt-holes, and their bottoms, which also became tops,
when i sliced and stacked 'em into whoopie jauns.
...yeah.
espresso icing, drizzled down the sides,
or ziggity-zagged aloing the tops,
depending on which style you prefer,
plus, cappuccino creme frosting,
swirled around the spots that needed filling up or in.
i take my treats very seriously.
like,
this is not a hobby to me,
it's my true and real joy.
mostly because i get to eat 'em,
but also because i have total control over the input and outcome of my creations.
i love that, and i need that.
i mean,
i could've left it well enough alone at super coffee cakes,
but well enough is not good enough,
and good enough is never ever enough-
i mean, c'mon now-
too much is the right amount.
mmmhmmm.
and that's why i also made two kinds of cookie dough,
vanilla and java,
and stacked and rolled and froze and cut the culmination of my labors into swirls.
word.
i want those fancy cookies,
and those coffee cakes,
and that drippy icing,
and that fluffy frosting.
on the ones,
that sounds way more expert than just one or two or three of those things.
i want ALL the hottness,
and if i have the means, the inspiration, and the know-how to doo-doo that freaky sh!t?
then i have to make the time to make the magic happen.
or i'll take it by storm and force the day to lengthen and accommodate my efforts.
that's called imposing your will on your world,
and creating a corona of cultivated concentrated coincidence around yourself.
yup.
i've got that nimble nimbus of imbued big action,
and i summon it up like an elite efreeti from the hot fiery furnaces of forever.
my small world is full of gigantic life.
it's packed full of moves to make,
and cakes to bake,
and bones to break,
without any breaks, or brakes, or mistakes...
i like that.
i'd like a little more rest,
or,
failing that, a marginally less-alarming awakening once in a while.
i have my doubts about that,
so i'll stick to inflicting my feelings on the woodsly goodness
while my people and my pets snooze the morning away;
never quiet, never soft.....