I begin my morning as many do with a good, hot cup of strong coffee. I consider coffee to be the elixir of life. I don’t want to talk before I have my coffee. I don’t want to look at anyone before I have my coffee. I certainly do not want to answer any questions about where something is or what something does before I have my coffee. I just want a few quiet moments alone with my dark, smokey friend who gives me the will to live…okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but coffee truly does wonders for my mood. A morning person I am not.
When I shop, I shop quarterly. I buy all the household staples and everything I don’t want to lug from the store to the car, then from the car to the house. I order it online; they bring it to my door and there is much less lugging involved. I consider coffee to be a household staple. I order 400 Keurig cups per quarter. The Bibbed Wonder has turned into a coffee guzzling machine and we are now solidly out of Keurig cups. We usually have a few random pods lying around like coconut cream, blueberry cobbler, or cinnamon bun which The Bibbed Wonder abhors, but alas in his desperation for caffeine my bibbed wearing buddy even sucked those down. Times are truly desperate here in Smayville. Our order will arrive tomorrow. I made the offer to run into the little market on the outskirts of town to pick up Keurig cups to get us through but my stubbornly steadfast husband proclaims he can make it until Friday. Meanwhile, he is snappy, grumping at everything that moves, and kind of has a sweaty sheen to his caffeine deprived bald little head.
Although clearly deprived and in need of a caffeine fix, my dear bibbed wearing buddy saved the last coconut cream coffee pod for me. Had I known at the time it was the very last pod in Smayville, I would have gladly sacrificed it for my bibbed wonder. That dear reader is love. Couples that sacrifice the last cup of coffee stay together for life. Unknowingly, not only did I use the last pod, I defiled it further by adding cream to it. I wander out the door onto the porch and sit starring off into the horizon awaiting the moment the sweet, magic elixir casts it’s spell and awakens me. Eric comes to sit with me, drinking water, and spreading his unpleasantness about like fairy dust. I tune him out. After eighteen years of marriage, it is a survival skill. That is when I heard it, that annoying, constant, desperate buzz of a fly stuck somewhere on something. I hate flies. I have a deep desire to rid my world of them and just to add insult to injury in 2020, we are inundated with flies this year. Truly, the universe mocks me. However, I digress. I look about for the annoying buzz, other than my grumpy husband babbling on about the latest offensive behavior of my dear red dog crush, Buster. I see no fly; I just hear it. Then I lift my Tinkerbell mug to my lips and there it is, the offensive pest has sought refuge in my coffee mug and is swimming about in the last cup of magical elixir.
Considering the mood of The Bibbed Wonder, I don’t dare throw out the last cup of sacrificed coffee in front of him. I am pretty sure that is an offense punishable by death. So, I sit and watch this horrid creature contaminate my cup all the while half paying attention to The Bibbed Wonder reiterating how Buster is the worst dog ever, with the worst behaviors ever, not only is he cat like, he embodies every bad habit of every dog we have ever owned. Some of which may be true, but he is so handsome and charming, cute and irresistible and at this point I can see myself dropping The Bibbed Wonder off at the pound long before my handsome, red dog crush. Finally, the fly drowns. It drowns and floats like…well, like a fly in the last cup of coffee for 48 hours. The Bibbed Wonder decides to go to Tractor Supply to spread his hate and discontent…hopefully, picking up a cup of coffee on the way to get him through the morning
I regretfully throw out the last cup of coffee, cursing the fly and the universe for its unkindness. Then I realize, there are just some days when your last cup of coffee for 48 hours is defiled by a turd eating pest. Sometimes, that’s just how it goes. Life is full of turd eating pests. I can either choose to feel victimized or I can appreciate the fact that the bibbed wearing prince charming I married gave up the last pod of said coffee so I would not be the one sitting and grousing about whatever is in my line of fire at the moment. Once I finish this post, I intend to drive the five miles to the store and get my bibbed buddy a box of coffee pods to get him through the day. After all, it’s the least I can do.
As always dear reader, stay safe, stay smart, I hope your coffee is not defiled by turd eating pests, and wash your hands. Any talk of pests or turds is just unclean and unsavory.