This morning I got out of bed at 5:25 am. No one else in the house was up. It would be at least two hours until the maelstrom of activity begins — boys running around, breakfasts being made, “I want peanut butter oatmeal, Mommy!” and TVs buzzing.
But now it’s quiet.
As I shaved this morning the only things I heard (or noticed hearing) was the sound of a few birds outside, the shaving brush against my mug (both shaving mug and the mug that’s my face), the razor dipping in the hot water in the sink, and the sound of my beard stubble being chopped off. You know it’s quiet when you can hear beard stubble bite the dust.
As I type this I’m downstairs waiting for the coffee to brew. If I use my imagination, I can tell my self it sounds identical to an idyllic babbling brook … that’s filled with caffeine. Nice.
There was a time in my life (not too long ago, truth be told) that I would have turned on the news while the coffee perked and breakfast was prepared. But I’ve come to realize something. It’s something that is reminiscent of what Sherlock Holmes said in the stories I read as a boy.
“A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library where he can get it if he wants it.”
The Five Orange Pips
That’s not exactly how I feel about the folks on TV, but it’s close. While most of them seem like perfectly charming people — in fact, they make a good buck because of that exact trait, being “perfectly charming” — I don’t see any need to have them over for breakfast on a daily basis. Just seems odd.
The day will get noisy on its own. Around 8 am will be my guess. But until then, I’m going to finish this post, then keep reading a book a friend lent me. There’s an odd sense of accountability that comes with a lent book. There is not only the need to take proper care of the physical book (DON’T USE IT AS A COASTER). There’s also the desire to have something half-way intelligent to say when the friend asks, “What did you think?” when you return it.
I’ll only have an answer if things stay quiet.
Keep it Old School (and nice & quiet), my friend
The Old Man