Sad Day in Mudville

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons
-T.S. Elliot
I could live without coffee… But I’d probably be a serial killer
-Kenneth Goorabian

The inevitable finally happened: the perfect storm of weekend overindulgence and
laissez faire attitude has culminated in a gut-wrenching awareness that I’ve run out
of coffee.

To some (who are you people?) this may seem rather silly, but I assure you, this is no
good ship lollipop to this Surly Temple. Without my morning cup ‘o joe, I tend to get a
wee bit anxious. But I’m no moodier than say… Jack the Ripper. Okay, slightly less. I
would only hurt someone if they were standing between me and the coffee pot.

I was a late bloomer to this miracle bean. In my younger years, I forsook coffee shops
for apartments wallpapered with tapestries and black-light posters; rooms pungent and hazy from cheap head-shop incense. With age comes wisdom though. I finally saw the light.
It was a glowing orange orb coming from my new best friend, Mr. Coffee.

And yes, Mr. C and I are still together. Oh, I was seduced over the years by newer, sleeker,
high-maintenance models, with their hourglass decanters and K-Cups, but always
returned to my first love. I’ve come to realize that relationships require hard work. Others promise increased satisfaction with less energy. I for one find no grounds for divorce.

Remember….  Death before Decaf

Kenneth Kona Goorabian