Update: I used to think my morning coffee routine was sacred, but my cat proved me wrong
For years, my ritual was set in stone. I'd grind the beans, heat the water to exactly 205 degrees, and do a slow pour-over into my favorite ceramic mug. It was my quiet, perfect moment. Then, about six months ago, my cat Simon decided the sound of the grinder was his personal dinner bell. Now, the second I touch the bag, he's weaving between my legs, yowling like he's starving, and the whole careful process turns into a frantic dance to not trip over him. The epiphany hit me last Tuesday when I just dumped the grounds into my old drip machine and hit 'brew' while I fed him. The coffee was... fine. I was less stressed, and Simon was happy. I guess my profound insight is that sometimes the 'right' way is just the way that doesn't get you killed by a determined pet. Has anyone else had a pet completely hijack a daily ritual you thought was untouchable?