Bliss
The pancakes were stacked three-high and were tender enough that I needed no knife.
I sipped from my mug and carved an inch of breakfast from the stack, then speared the bite of pancake and made figure-8 patterns in the syrup.
The inside of my cheeks were still wet with coffee when I put the fork in my mouth and allowed everything to sit for a moment.
I breathed slowly and deeply through my nose in order to smell the sweet cake and maple with a smoky hint of coffee.
I chewed slowly and continued to take deep breaths through my nose.
I closed my eyes.
I swallowed almost as slowly as I could, hastened only by the thought that I was making room for the next bite.
The thought occured to me that there was a maximum of joy one could feel at any moment and I was currently at that maximum - no more neurons could fire, no more chemicals could be released.
Then I wondered whether I was worthy of this bliss; should a man be permitted to feel such complete joy at 8:00 am?
I expressed this to my wife. She said, "I'm glad you liked the pancakes, but you should know the day will only get worse from here."