Let’s take a step back

So I had plans for today’s post. Big plans. A nice, thoughtful post talking about the past year—the high points, the disappointments, the things that hurt. Then, this morning happened. And that post, my children, went straight out the window. All because of coffee.

See, coffee and I, we’ve been together for awhile. Sure, there have been a few sleepless nights. Some bitter moments. Some very sweet moments that should be topped with whipped cream. But this morning, we had the argument that has caused me to reevaluate our relationship. Coffee proved how insensitive and self-centered he can be.

Let’s start by saying I was running late this morning. Later than usual, since I didn’t get in the shower until close to 6 a.m. (I don’t blame this on coffee. That was all my fault, and the snooze button, and the nice, cool, crisp sheets on my bed.) Anyway, I’m late. So once I’m dressed and ready to go, I run down the stairs, pour my travel mug of coffee, picking the one I painted at a pottery painting place. You know, the mug that’s ceramic so the coffee gets cold faster and it doesn’t have one of those nifty tops that you can close to keep the heat—and coffee—inside the mug. So I’m on my way out the door and I’m gathering up all the stuff that needs to go with me. My gym bag. That prescription I need to have filled. Bills to pay because it’s pay day. My purse. My keys. Once I have all this gathered up, I’m good to go. Until I realize that coffee is everywhere. Well, not everywhere, just all over the carpet. Ugh!

This is not something I can just leave because a) we’re talking about me, the girl who most resembles Monica on FRIENDS, and b) coffee stains. So I’m off to the kitchen to get a dish towel and stuff to clean this up. Sounds easy enough, but I’ve put up the gate for Muffin and have to hurdle it to get to the dish towel, etc. It was fun. So I clean up that mess, pick up all the gear again, and start out the door.

This is when coffee just got ugly. As I’m attempting to walk out my front door, coffee spills all over the front of my shirt. I don’t have time to change. I wanted to wear this shirt today, and, dang it, coffee is not talking me out of it! So I attempt to clean that up a bit, make a huge wet spot on my shirt, and hop in the car, hoping it would dry by the time I got to work. It didn’t. There’s nothing like strolling into work with a large wet spot on your shirt and acting like there’s nothing strange going on.

So coffee, I still love you. But really, was all this necessary? I just don’t know if I can fully trust you again. It’s something we’ll have to work through. 🙂