I forgot to mention this. One morning last weekend, I was moving my tiny Mr. Coffee machine (the one that barely serves two people) from one counter to another, when the carafe slid at a diagonal and crashed to the floor. Shards of glass everywhere. I had had this coffee machine since 2006, when my sister and I lived together in San Francisco. When my cluelessness extended beyond our tiny kitchen.
The glass hit the floor, and the noise chased the lingering sleep out my ears. I felt calm, almost happy. How do I explain that? I was happy that something had happened without me planning it? I was happy to see the consequence of my action? I was happy to have my morning daze interrupted by gravity, physics?
I must have stood there, staring at the glass, for a full twenty seconds. There were mixed feelings. Surprise (I had just woken up). Regret (shouldn't have carried that with carafe still in the machine!). Disappointment (now how will I make coffee?). Nostalgia (my first apartment as an adult in San Francisco). Pleasure (look at all that glass!). Then my brain regained control. The glass was swept, the coffee machine set aside. I pulled out my ceramic cone and kettle.
The lesson here could be look for the silver lining, or go with the flow. After all, if my machine had not broken, I would have left my pourover set neglected in the cupboard. But that's obvious. And it makes it sound like this is about coffee. It's not.
Leave space for life to happen. Don't overcrowd your mind. Manual is harder, but the alternative is autopilot.