Last night I finally did it: I moved the coffee machine into the bedroom, something I should have done weeks ago, but it took all that time for the seed of the idea to germinate in the hard dry soil of my intellect, and finally crack up through the crust, bursting, flowering, weighed down with a bloom of dangling fruit, but there it is, I can now make coffee without waking the baby up, and now I have been sitting here pleasantly since before dawn alternately reading Gogol and the paper, thinking, my god, this is nice, I should write something, and now I have.


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