The day started with my feet hitting the floor at 7 a.m.

The old oak floors were cold but felt good under my feet. I took a step and felt a tightening twinge in the lower left side of my back. I was going to need coffee, followed by some medicine for my back.

I walked down the long, dark hallway. I was not ready to welcome the light yet, so I stumbled into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

I opened the blinds and curtains over my long, green kitchen counter so I could look outside into complete darkness. I felt exposed—people could look inside and see me.

I grabbed my favorite blue pottery mug; I grabbed a dry spoon out of the dish drain and picked up my blue oval container that holds my magic elixir: coffee.

I filled the tiny basket with as much coffee as it could hold, plugged the Keurig in, brought my mug to fill it up with the hot, fresh goodness. I waited as it dripped into my mug.

I counted to 30 seconds, took a few steps to the fridge, and grabbed the skim milk from the back of the fridge. I poured a tablespoon into my coffee and placed the milk back in the fridge. 

(Now, the milk is in the front of the top shelf.)

I place my hands around my favorite mug and take a large inhale of this magic potion. The smell is heavenly. This coffee will wake me up, and it will keep me feeling good. (Drinking it keeps me from murdering others.)

The light outside my window is now overtaking the darkness outside. I can now see the pink, orange, and white azaleas.

The dogwood tree lights up the morning with its bright white petals. A puff of yellow pollen blows by.

I am inside, but I sneeze as I see it blowing around outside. Spring is here in all its colors—and pollen.

Right now, I can enjoy it from the inside. When I step outside, the sneezing will begin.

I love the spring, but it genuinely does not love me back.