MUST. HAVE. COFFEE!

MUST. HAVE. COFFEE!

Coffee.

Life sustaining, day saving, friend and family loving coffee.

We need it.  We want it.  We gotta have it!

Yesterday morning I rose at the normal time.  Okay, I was a few minutes late, so sue me.  I showered.  Brushed my teeth.  Took my meds.  Got dressed.  Walked out into the kitchen and realized I hadn’t set the coffee maker to come on the night before.  Damn!  No big deal, I’ll get coffee at work. *sigh*

I make the 28 minute commute which normally only takes 13 minutes but, with frigid temperatures and lake-effect snows, things get bogged down.  I have no coffee to soothe my jangled nerves.  Road rage is not just a possibility but possibly becoming a given!  But I make it to work without incident.  The other drives have no idea how lucky they were.

I arrive at the office and the only conscious thought I have is “Must. Have. Coffee.”  I think “I’ll just go down to Dunkin’ Donuts and get a cup.”  But then the practical Pat says “Naw, just MAKE some, you have a coffee maker right here — why spend the money when you don’t have to?”  “Fine! Fine! Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone!” my coffee deprived brain shrieks inside my head.  I get water, and set coffee to brew in my little 4-cup Mr. Coffee with the warming burner that doesn’t work any more.

I turn on my computer, sit down to start the day until the coffee is ready.  Take a phone call.  Chat in the front office with a faculty member who needs help with something.  Take another phone call.  Go to the bathroom.  Get sidelined in the hallway coming back from the bathroom by another faculty member who needs help and information.  By the time I get to the coffee pot, more than an hour has passed since I put it on.  My caffeine headache is now a dull thud.  I reach for the pot, and my cell phone goes off — that distinctive ring that tells me it’s Lisa.  I answer “Hullo!”  I lose myself in conversation with Lisa for a few minutes until I become conscious again of the dull thudding in my head.  I pour a cup of coffee.  I stick my finger in the coffee.  “I can PISS warmer than this!” my brain screams.  I put the cup of not-as-warm-as-piss coffee in the microwave and turn it on.  I sit down and continue to chat with Lisa.  Time passes — I don’t know how much time, it just does.  I become aware that the coffee has been in the microwave for WAY TOO LONG!  I had put it in there on the setting that I use to warm my frozen lunch entree!

SHIT!

I open the door to the microwave and observe the coffee boiling over — ROILING and boiling over.  It is now nuclear reactor hot and I can’t drink it.  And it has a much much much darker color than normal.  I say to Lisa “What the fuck was I thinking?” and tell her about the coffee in the microwave.  I tell her “I’m going to Dunkin’ Donuts to get some coffee” and end the call.  I grab my keys and head out the door.

It’s intersession — the spring semester doesn’t start until next week. And Dunkin’ Donuts is closed.

Okay, we’ll go into the cafe marketplace and get some coffee there — not as good as Dunkin’ but sure to have caffeine.  It’s now around 11:00 and the dull thud in my head has become louder. Pounding. Squeezing my skull. I can feel the blood as it races through my temples.  Must. Have. COFFEE!

Oh look! Doesn’t that BLT salad look good?  I think I’ll pick one of those up, too.  That’ll goo really well with my frozen entree.  And coffee.

Where are all the coffee pump carafes?  Hazlenut?  I don’t think so.  I holler across to the cashier whom I can barely see now because my vision is distorted from caffeine withdrawal “Don’t you have any regular coffee made?”  “Coming right up!” I hear from behind me as another worker sets the carafe on the counter in front of me.  I block the other two people standing and waiting from coffee, lest they get coffee out of that fresh carafe before I do.  They look at me oddly.  I don’t give a rat’s ass.  MUST. HAVE. COFFEE!

Pay for the coffee and the salad.  Head back to the office.  Swill coffee in large gulps on the way.

I open the office door, take another swig….*CHOKE*….coffee goes down the wrong way.  I have a huge mouthful and can feel the cough reflex trying to escape from deep inside my lungs and throat.  I can’t.  Have coffee in my mouth.  Must…spit…*COFF* *COFF* *COFF* And coffee sprays all over my desk, my keyboard, my monitor, the job I’m working on, my chair, my shirt (plenty on my shirt).  GODDAMMIT!

It’s all Lisa’s fault, really.  You see, she’s in Pennsylvania.  SHE is the one who normally puts the coffee on in the evening.  All of the day’s lousy events can be tracked right back to that simple fact.  It’s Lisa’s fault.

I’m afraid for today…

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