I almost never blog twice in one day. And surely hadn't planned to today. I'm much too busy. Too many projects, too far behind and not enough time. But I just did something completely stupid. Makes me chuckle to myself — Ok, out loud — although it's probably not really funny.
You see, I'm a coffee drinker. Big-time coffee drinker. I easily put away the equivalent in dark-beaned coffee that most doctors recommend for a persons daily requirement of fresh water. Too much. So I've been cutting back. Now I drink tea. Healthier, so they say. I like tea, and the wife gets me the fancy kind with flavors you'd normally not think to put together. Pineapple-ginger, cinnamon-plum. But tea's not coffee and this morning I must have been craving some joe.
Me and the son are running late for daycare. Real late. If I don't have him there by 9, he can't go for the day. They won't let him, that's the rules. So we stop at the corner convenience store to pick him up a quick donut for breakfast on the way. Krispy Kerme is his favorite. Don't tell the mom. Anyway, there's this guy in the store mixing up a cup of coffee. He's preparing it just the way he likes it. Vanilla creamer, sweetener and cinnamon. He stirs slowly and as the steam rises off the top, it does a little dance which catches my eye. My mouth almost waters. My eyes do. Coffee! I should get a coffee. But I won't, I have willpower. I pay for the sons donut, get in the car, head off to daycare, drop him off just in time. They're headed out with the birdfeeders they made in class yesterday. They'll do some bird watching and I wish I had time to do some kids- watching-birds watching because they looked so cute.
I get home, but before starting my work for the day, I flip some quick eggs and make me some toast. Pop a cup of water into the microwave for my tea. Grab my tea, eggs, toast and coffee, then head upstairs to my studio. Wait! Coffee? I didn't make no coffee. I didn't buy no coffee. So where did this cup of joe with the vanilla cinnamon aroma come from?
Oh my gosh, and I can just imagine this poor guy standing there speechless as this rough-looking ( I don't comb my hair or do much grooming when taking the son to daycare), black guy, takes off with his copiously prepared morning brew. Oops.
Unrelated thought for the day: Do we really care that the guy who normally gets to embalm the Pope didn't get called this time? And after embalming Pope John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul I, shouldn't he be dead, too?