Coffee

Yesterday morning I wake and start a pot of coffee. Then I trudge up the stairs to get the kids up. After making sure Juliet is getting ready I head down with Romeo, only to find my coffee filter has folded over, thus making coffee and grounds pour all over the kitchen counter and floor. Cleaning up the sopping mess I growl as I have already slept in past my alarm and now this. I finish my cleaning and proceed to ready another pot of coffee. Push the button. Red light comes on. Leave the kitchen. Finishing dressing Romeo. Trudge back to the kitchen for coffee. No coffee. Damn coffee maker has quit making! Oh lovely day! I decide I deserve Starbucks in light of my crappy morning. Take my daughter to school. Late. Drop Romeo off. Head to Starbucks. I decide to try something new. After all, today I am treating myself. Get in the car. Head home. Get halfway through the cup before I decide it is pretty unbearable. Damn. Now where shall my motivation to start the day come from? I could by a new coffee pot, but I’d rather let mine dry out first to be sure it is truly broken. Besides, I’m still resentful that it crapped out on me. Noon rolls around. I’ve accomplished a large stack of nothing. Mother calls. “Let us take you to lunch dear! You deserve a nice cup of coffee!” Off to lunch. Order the coffee. Prepare myself for a piece of heaven. It’s the crappiest cup of coffee I have ever had I believe. Ordinarily I may finish it anyways, just to relish the pick-me-up. Not today. Bitter thoughts and stubbornness have set in. Drive home. Screw it, I’m taking a nap. While lying on the couch I hear a funky, nasty sound. I peer up just in time to witness my cat vomiting all over the freshly laundered pile of clothes tossed next to the sofa. Nice. I hiss at him, “That’s wonderful!”
The day goes on. Midnight is approaching and I know my neighbor will be home from work soon. I gather my book and smokes and head to the porch where I read in wait. He pulls up and I shout, “I’m hoping you’ll be my savior!” I relay the story and beg of him to make me a pot of coffee. No, I don’t care that it’s midnight. I haven’t had a damn cup of decent coffee all day. He fills my carafe and we sit and visit until I am sure I’ll wet myself after 2 cups of dreamy coffee. I relieve myself and head to bed. Where my body is crying for sleep but my heart is pounding and my mind racing. Damn. Stinkin’ coffee.