The first slurp of coffee to slosh the tongue each morning starts a day well. I rise early, brew the coffee, pour a cup and sit for 60 to 90 minutes to read the news.
But it’s that first slurp, sucked in while still at the coffee maker, that summons the most sensation. The bracing jolt of dark roast, never sweetened or cut with milk, is one of the most fulfilling of simple pleasures.
In a pandemic, with our lives robbed of so much experiential variety, simple pleasures count for more. We need them.
Here’s another: Folding into bed at night after cleaning the linens and remaking the bed. I don’t know if the freshly laundered sheets feel different – and better – to the skin, or if knowledge that they’re fresh tricks the mind. A simple pleasure.
Or opening a new tub of margarine or jar of peanut butter and denting the smooth surface with knife or spoon. The act always summons a memory of a childlike delight, prompting a smile. A simple pleasure.
So many tiny pleasures. What are yours?
