Tarragon with the wind

On cold mornings, I like to have some oatmeal. I usually spice the bland food up with some honey and cinnamon.

For whatever reason, I had trouble sleeping this morning. I suspect this has something to do with some files I lost when my PC crashed, but that's not really relevant.

As the Beatles song goes: I got up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Then I realized that last bit was really silly. Moving on... so I started to put together breakfast. My motor skills in the morning work on a very basic routine that's essentially muscle memory. I can't do anything significant or analytical until I've had that first cup of coffee. So anything that disrupts my pattern is just not acceptable to the automatic functions that run my shambling form until coffee has entered the system.

Apparently waking up early was a disruption.

I put together my oatmeal, nuke it, then add honey and grab for the cinnamon from my spice rack.

By "spice rack", I mean "that collection of spices I have glommed-together in one place in a cabinet". I just grabbed the bottle closest to the front. No worries. Cinnamon is my most-used of my spices by far.

Uncapped the spice bottle and shook it to get some cinnamoHMYGOD!!!! WHAT THE HELL??? WHAT IS THIS STUFF??? Is that... tarragon??? WHEN DID I GET TARRAGON IN MY SPICE COLLECTION???? HOW THE HELL DID I...?

Breathe. Breathe. Okay, what the hell? This is tarragon. And there's a lot of it in my oatmeal.

Memory, inspired by adrenaline, returns. Yep. Used up the last of the open container with cinnamon yesterday. I have a second, but it's sealed.

I need coffee.

Nuked water. Created coffee. Dumped the tarragoatmeal. I'm just not open to experimenting like that this early in the morning. Re-made breakfast.

This is just going to be one of those days. I can already tell.