Ode to Coffee
Monday mornings are more than a reason for coffee. I don’t know what you experienced over the weekend, but mine I really try to get as much out of them as I can. I know changing kitty litter doesn’t sound like a “wild wacky weekend” but to each his own. I won’t judge you, if you don’t judge me. I was sitting at work this morning with a with a my droopy eyes sucking closed. A waft of coffee comes from the kitchen, I know, high class that we have a kitchen in our department, a co-worker is grinding beans to make the first pot of ‘wake-up’ of the day. Soon the drip, drip, drip of black gold seeps through the carefully crafted paper filter and a full carafe is available. The smell is wonderfully strong. It does wonders to my bleary eyes still kicked in the head with sleep. My body floats like a cloud, blowing by as I get up from my chair and go to the upstairs cafeteria for some other coffee. Like a lot of things in life, convenience is just too damn convenient.
The elevator took me to the first floor and my apparition was passing by others in the same zombie coma. Not a “Good morning” or even a “Hello” can be heard, just the grunt of acknowledgement from a kneejerk response of the cerebral cortex. Cro-Magnon would have spoken in a greater literary prose than could reach my tongue in this stage. Even baby talk would be more recognizable at least as a form of speech. I am embarrassed that I can write and yet nouns and verbs are unknown to me before coffee. The morning pox has taken hold and the remedy is a good stiff cup of Joe.
At the counter, I am presented with multiple choices; stong, decaf, flavored, bold, light and plain old hot water for those wusses that drink tea. I drink tea in the afternoon or in the evening. Tea is not made for breakfast unless you are sitting in a tea house with starched linens, dainty tea cups, classic English scones, and you have your pinky available for being poked into the air. I grab a cup and start work on creating the perfect cup. First 2% milk. Why 2%? Because I don’t want 5% milk fat and half and half is way too much milk fat in the morning. I want my stomach to be excepting of my breakfast meal, I don’t want it to think the coffee is the meal. Then, two Splendas. I don’t use sugar. I know I’ll be dead before you, I’m aware of that fact, you don’t have to tell me how bad inverse sucrose is bad for me, with all the aluminum and other by-products that appear in the fake sugar. I used to use three Splendas. I started to feel sick during the day, so I cut back. It was easier to stop smoking.
OK, milk and sweeteners are in, now for the coffee, flavored; Jamaica Me Crazy. It has a nice flavor and it doesn’t rip a bigger hole in my ulcer. My parents learned to drink coffee black after years of cream and sugar. I just can’t do it. Like doing a shot of Irish whiskey, more liquid would wind up back in the cup. Coffee is meant to be savored, so I have a sip. The caffeine goes to work on the rest of my head and I’m starting to recognize signs, people’s faces, and holy shit, I’m at work! It’s amazing the things you can do before coffee. It’s kind of like waking up in your bed, in your pajamas, after a night of heavy drinking, thinking “how did I get here?” but not really wanting to ask or know the answer to that question. I have another sip. I’m able to order my breakfast from the cook. Wow! This stuff really works! I see a co-worker and say, “Hey!” They say “Hey!” back. I can tell they’ve had their coffee also. The brain activity is now in full steam. I’m really in a delusional state now thinking I can begin work. I might even be able to get through the day.
I grab my food, which I finish at my desk, read my emails and the day begins again. I look at my calendar and see that I had scheduled the day off. DOH! Well, maybe I can move it to tomorrow.
