Ah, morning! (cue the opening bars of Rossini’s William Tell Overture)
The light from the window peels open your eyes, a little dodgy after last night’s late night meeting at work.
So you stumble into your robe, switch on your slippers, and put on the kitchen floor. Open the pantry, reach for the coffee. The coffee. Gotta make the coffee.
Get the coffee, not the brown rice. Where’s the coffee? It’s usually right here on the second shelf. What did you do with it? You check you bag from the night before. No coffee! Oh no!
You forgot to stop at the Quik Sacks on the way home! You hate when that happens. Now you’re faced with the most pressing first-world problem imaginable: waking up with no coffee in the house.
Oh well, getting your morning coffee on the outside is not an option for you. All those cafes and coffee shops and diners serve rabbit piss that runs straight through you.
No, you need coffee that you can chew, that snaps you awake. Mornings, you need the punch and splash of your own strong brew that only you can make in your own kitchen. Otherwise, it will be a very long day indeed.
Waking Up with No Coffee in the House: First World Problems A-Go-Go
Cursing, you stumble back to the bedroom and paint on some pants. No, not that shirt. Is it raining? Where are your glasses? How come your shoes aren’t there? This is no way to start your day. Waking up with no coffee in the house is like discovering you left your head at work yesterday.
Okay, let’s do this. You walk out the door, scratching the keys in the lock, and down the back steps and around the corner. Three blocks to the nearest store. Everyone else is smiling and whistling. They had their coffee already.
You turn toward the store, pass that burnt orange Auto Moto that’s always parked there. You wonder who drives that thing and what the gas mileage is like.
At the last corner, you climb the street’s center hump like it’s K2 and you left your ropes and crampons at home. One more block to the nice Mexican grocery. You’re sweating already, stopping to pick a stone from your sandals.
You reach for the store’s door, not smiling at the security cameras, and almost trip on the stack of newspapers at your feet.
Not Guilty by Reason of No Coffee in the House
You’re on auto moto pilot now. You shuffle without thinking down the middle aisle. Maxwell House. Folgers. Hill Brothers. Cafe Bustelo. Why is a one-pound metal can less expensive than a ten-ounce vacuum-sealed block? You grab the block.
What else do you need? Toilet paper? Bread? Sugar? Do you have sugar? You need the coffee more than the sugar but you know coffee without sugar is the second worst first world problem you can have.
You decide to take your chances and just get coffee. Already you’re regretting waking up today, and if you don’t get home and drink some, you’re never going to get out of this mess.
So you stagger to the front and place the yellow and red block of robust Latin coffee on the counter. “What’s up?” the friendly Mexican cashier says. “That will be $4.89.”
And when you reach into your pocket, you only then realize.
You left your wallet at home.