Espresso and cinnamon.  Dreading when they’re picked up, not thinking about it.  Rearranging day in my head, as I often do.  Commit to one thing, then actuate another, then scold self for not following the initial sight.  What if I just existed in the moment, and planned nothing.  But I have to plan something right, I’m an adult.  Is that how that works?  “I’m a planner…” I hear some people say, and I always want to ask if they’re bragging or confessing some character quirk they’re trying to straighten out or get rid of altogether.

No plan for day other than what’s already there… so wait then, that means I have more or less a plan for day.

Makes me a mess, Mikey-A-Mess.  No more.

Focusing on this espresso and the small business idea to have my own café, of some kind.  Like Noto or the coffee shop that used to be near SSU where I’d read poetry..  North Light!

How would I start this café…. Virtually!  On a blog… what do I call it.  Not crucial now.  The idea is what matters, that I had it this morning.

Henry still asleep, just wrote some wine notes.