Friday, January 25, 2008

My morning coffee

Coffee has been around a long time. Centuries. No, scratch that. Multiples of centuries. It cannot be construed hyperbole to say that millions of people all over the world drink millions of cups of coffee every day. So you can't blame me for feeling a trifle put out that the coffee machine in my office does not understand what coffee is. I am convinced that this machine has existential angst in the extreme. You walk up to it and its gleaming panel of buttons. You look at the large container of beans sitting atop it. It looks confident. It exudes the air of someone who knows what they're about. You choose your coffee. The beast comes to life and makes a series of noises that would earn it a place of pride in the porn industry. Finally, with a deep sigh a stream of liquid emerges and you dutifully collect every last drop, fully intending to swallow, not spit. The task proves impossible. The only way you would swallow this stuff is if every last taste bud in your mouth had gone on vacation to the Maldives. How difficult can it be? Coffee has been around for eons. Coffee machines are hardly bleeding edge technology. Then why, why, why can I not start my day with a decent cup of caffeine? I return to my desk with my mug of steaming not-coffee. I intend to ignore it pointedly. The long day stares me in the face. There are problems to be solved and people to be nice to. Stronger men than me would break. What do I do?
Just sigh and thank the good lord that my taste buds can't form a union.