Coffee crisis

Oh, no, life can be so terrible...

The coffee maker here at my end of the floor is still on the fritz. It only fills the cup halfway. Horrors. My life is really tough, huh? I actually have to walk to the other end of the floor to get my free cup of Joe.

I found this out when I was getting my third cup of the morning. Yes, if a doc told me that I'd have to cut out coffee or die, I'd say, oh well, call the undertaker.

This morning I actually thought about my coffee consumption and almost reached for the decaf instead of the high test Kenyan. Then I compromised and grabbed the Maison Melange. Good grief. What is the effing world coming to? Does it make it taste any better to say house blend in French? Some might think so.

I thought about this as I trudged up the hall to the other coffee maker and said eff it. I like my whiskey neat, my beer without fruits and nuts in it, my women feminine, and my coffee strong.

I got the cup of Kenyan here by my elbow, to the devil with it all.