I woke this morning and made my stumbling way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. With my eyes half-shut, and through rote memory alone, I had gotten the filter in, the coffee in the filter, and filled the pot with water. As I lifted my groggy arm to pour the water into the coffee maker, someone said, "But what, is your motivation?". Startled, I splashed the water over the counter top. All but a stray drop, flinging itself into the machine. Without looking up, I pulled down some paper towels and wiped the counter. "Coffee Constantine, the same motivation as yesterday."
Stanislavski was in my kitchen, again.