Machinery

Sometimes I wonder if I am run by machines.
In the morning, a clock awakes me.
The first thing I like to do is grind some coffee beans in the grinder; put the grounds into the coffee machine and set her on her first run of the day.

From there I'm off to either the sewing machine or the laptop. Either way, they are kissing cousins because no matter which one I begin on, I'll be headed to the other immediately following.

Then from my perspective, I will spend the next 12 plus hours repeating the same triangular formation. Oh, there will be some other machinery thrown in for sure. Most definately the Mighty Five: microwave, dishwasher, stove, washer, and dryer. Occasional dips downstairs for the deep freeze, or to empty the water resovior on the dehumidifier. Oh! Let's not forget those evils that I love to hate: the televisions- switching cords for this system or that player, this vhs and then maybe a dvd, just for the joy of figuring out where the red, yellow, and green bits go.

Sometimes, my body itself feels like a machine.
Is there a button on my upper right quadrant that says "refresh"?
Do I need softening salt or deionizer?
A flush and fill? Fine grind? Filter and lube? Seratonin Reuptake Inhibiter?

ah, well. There goes the buzzer on the dryer, and it's time to set the alarm for tomorrow morning. Maybe after a good, hot cup of java in the morning we'll be off and running like a well-oiled machine...