I’d Like to Pay for That Coffee (and never have it)

My Tuesdays are hectic, mainly because they’re actually my Mondays. I find myself waking up and wandering around my house aimlessly for the first twenty minutes that I’m mobile. My dog, Oliver, yawns from the couch and watches me pass by one, two, three, four times before he finally realizes that I’ve lost my goddamn mind and goes back to sleep.

This morning I was really dragging ass. I’m usually at work by 8:30 the latest and today I didn’t even get out of the house until 9:00. Why? I don’t know. I didn’t even shower, I barely brushed my hair, and I didn’t eat breakfast. I spent most of the morning looking for pants. I also walked Oliver and Tweeting. When you’ve lost your pants, Tweet.

Since my head was in the clouds I decided to stop at the cafe near my house for a coffee which I rarely do because as I’ve hit my thirties my body has stopped enjoying all things awesome. I put my friend Dusty on hold (Bluetooth, you are my everything), pulled up to the window and ordered my decaf almond milk latte. Yeah, decaf, because I’m a stress case and caffeine makes me tweak out and lose my shit. But the decaf has just enough coffee to wake me up (my college self is shitting her pants right now-that version of me drank no less than 12 cups of coffee per day and still slept like I’d been Roofied). I paid for my coffee, put my wallet back in my bag, and continued chatting with Dusty about her Ph.D. program. Thirty minutes into my drive, almost to work, I realized that something was wrong. I surveyed my car.

“OH! MOTHER FUCK!” I slapped the steering wheel.

“What happened!?” Dusty asked.

“Apparently, I paid for my coffee and then just drove off like some madman.”


“Without the coffee.” I felt ragey. And slightly afraid. Is that level of absent-mindedness even normal? Then Dusty was all, “dude, are you pregnant?” And I was like, no, my head just isn’t attached to my body, apparently.

But tomorrow? Oh, tomorrow I’m getting that damn coffee.


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