Dear readers, I have figured our why despite all the meds and other morning rituals I felt like a fork had been stabbed in my brain and all hope was lost.

The carefully made mocha this morning, I have just discovered, was but a mere hot chocolate - with the freshly ground coffee still waiting patiently in its canister, aeropress dutifully washed of yesterday's hasty activities but not a second time... I'm not sure how to resolve these heinous vicious cycles where a lack of coffee causes a lack of coffee and therefore the end of the world.

Anyway, the situation is currently being rectified and I remain mortified at this horrific act of self-abuse