This morning I went to make coffee. I opened the cupboard and grabbed the box of coffee filters and pulled out the last one. The box was finished. This made me happy. I think I even said out loud 'oh, good, I've finished the box'. Then I asked myself 'why does this please me?' The feeling is one of accomplishment, like I succeeded in drinking enough coffee, thus depleting my supply of filters, so I now have to buy new and start the process all over again. Whoa — starting new, processing, success, accomplishment— this is just a little too heavy for a slightly hung over Sunday morning. Another cup please.
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