At work, I made a cup of coffee. There's a whole system to it. 20 grams of coffee over which I pour 250 grams of boiling water. I wait two minutes, swirl the Aeropress, wait another fifteen seconds, and press a perfect coffee.

This morning, wanting a bit more than usual, I measured 24 grams of coffee and began adding 300 grams of water. But the scale had gone to sleep. I had no accurate weights with which to work.

I stopped. Do I pour it out and start again or eyeball this? I wondered. Waste not, want not, so I eyeballed.

The Aeropress cylinder holds 250 grams of water on a quick pour but begins seeping down into the cup right away. I had stopped mid-pour — my oh damn moment — so all bets were off. I took another oh damn moment.

I try to dive into opportunities presented by challenges at work and at home. Instead of resisting, I'm working to accept and find what the challenges have to teach me.

Yet here I was filled with resistance over eye-balling my coffee. If such a tiny thing can knock me off balance, bigger challenges are likely to kick my ass.

Keep going, I whispered.

I poured water to the top of the cylinder, waited the two minutes, swirled the cylinder, waited fifteen more seconds, pressed the plunger to the bottom, and lifted the Aeropress from the mug. It looked a bit dark in there, so I poured in some water, an inexact amount.

As I began work, the coffee beside me, I took an absent-minded sip. It was good. I inhaled the aroma and took another sip and it was as if everything was alright, as if what I had done was good enough.