Started the morning with a gentle shuffle out the door to the Salem YMCA. The pool was quiet, the kind of soft blue that invites you in without a word. Drifted through a few laps, letting the water unkink the knots and smooth out the leftover sleep. Afterward, did a little time on the machines, enough to get the muscles humming and the blood warmed up. The sort of modest workout that feels like a small high five from the universe.

Came home to the comforting rhythm of chores. Laundry tumbling in the background like a polite storm. In the kitchen, I set up a mini burrito workshop, this one powered by farmers market bounty and a little kitchen alchemy. Spring mix for a bit of crunch and green life, cheese for comfort, and “meat” made with Impossible burger cooked up with black beans and corn. A dollop of sour cream, a drizzle of taco sauce, then rolled each one up into tidy parcels. A whole tray of them, each smelling like a promise.

The cat arrived right on cue, her expression a blend of entitlement and curiosity. To ease her very real fear of missing out, she received a single dignified fingerprint of sour cream. Peace restored.

Plenty of burrito fixings left for tomorrow’s dinner, which feels like a small gift sent forward in time. The house is quiet now, laundry done, kitchen warm, day stitched together with simple goodness.