A Free Hands on Glimpse into my National Coffee Day
Nectar of the Gods
National Coffee Day only recognizes September 29th 2012 as its Holiday. I spend the other 364 days in the same routine as the one that follows:
How many of us will only climb out of bed in the morning because there is coffee to drink? We all know there are days when this is more than the truth. Sure, there is a job to get to, children to get on the bus, breakfast to eat. Whatever. Coffee is King. Every day is National Coffee Day. I can't help but admit that stumbling out of bed, clamoring down the stairs, finding the components of making this magic morning brew takes all precedence over everything else in the house.I cant see anything yet. I cant even open my eyes all the way. I cant read the numbers on the clock yet, but I know I'm at least 10 minutes behind schedule. Thank you, snooze.
The Coffee Pot
The coffee pot still has ½ a cup of cold coffee in it from yesterday. Every un-awakened cell in my body says screw it, just drink it please. I'm sure someday I will, but to date, it has yet to happen. I just dump it out and rinse the pot out quickly and fill it up with clean water. I know I should clean it with soap and water Ignorance is not knowing the difference between right and wrong; stupidity occurs when you know the difference, but choose the wrong. I have a good idea about where that puts me. Logic dictates I am stupid. Logic also dictates I get my coffee brewed faster.
p.s: At this point, Logic has yet to have a drop of coffee.
The Tortoise Beats the Hare!
Or The Tortoise powers my Coffee Pot
Our coffee pot is the slowest mechanical device ever made to brew coffee. Guinness’s World Records has yet to return my phone calls, written correspondence or emails, but I am certain it holds a place in the next edition. It's downright painful. And I know it mocks me in the morning. A dark sweet drop every 3 seconds of freshly brewed coffee. Time seriously stands still. Of course, in the real world, time moves faster than ever. The bus will be here in 20 minutes now, and neither child has gotten out of bed yet. My Mother warned me 30 years ago I would pay someday for all those mornings I made her late. To this day, she drinks coffee all day, up to an hour before she goes to bed. Logic dictates coffee must be the potion of both Saints and Fortune-Tellers.
Morning Go Juice Utensils
Cup in hand worth 2 on the brew
The Holy Grail
I drink my coffee with ½ n' ½ (cream and milk) and sugar. A little of each. It all comes together with that first gulp. I'm well aware that I can no longer feel my tongue. I burn the crap out of it in my needful haste. I don't care. Like Paul Revere, that wonderful caffeine is now racing to alert every cell in my body that the day's battles are about to begin. With each ensuing drink of this sweet, dark nectar of the gods, I grow more confident. I feel as though I can best my colleagues, Triumph over my adversaries, Squash any competition in the merciless world of my fast-paced professional world.