By magic, I get up and leave, and when I'm back it's made. Along with fresh clothes where there was once a pile and the wet towels over chair replaced with clean folded ones. Magic.
Slowly roasted with warm gravy drizzling down the edges so softly you just want to reach out with your tongue and take a long lick whilst maintaining deep eye contact with the cook.
Walk like a zombie downstairs. Let the dog out. Get coffee started. Let dog in. Feed dog. Drink a glass of water with a buffet of pills. Pour a mug of coffee. Go sit on the porch with my dog and enjoy the quiet.