My nerves are still pinging. I think I touched the edge of the universe on my way home. Or maybe I just ran over a badger, I'm not sure. Why did I ever give this up? And how will I ever give it up all over again tomorrow morning? In the unlikely event that I fall asleep tonight, that is.
The very first sip of that medium regular Tim's reminded me what good coffee tastes like, in that it was nothing like a good cup of coffee. It did scratch the itch though and I was reminded of the best cup of coffee I have ever had...
Husband was still Boyfriend and we had been living together for about 5 months. Exactly five months, actually, since I had moved in the September previous. I woke up one February morn and could smell something unfamiliar in the air. Was that... freshly brewed coffee? That was unlikely as we didn't own a coffee maker. Boyfriend was "a serious ath-a-leet" and therefore, apparently, not a coffee drinker. This made for some adjustments, while our relationship was still fresh and we had worked out a system whereby I survived on instant, he in the hopes that I would wean myself off and me in the hopes that I would someday remember to pick up a coffee maker from Wal-Mart on the way home from the gym.
I followed the seductive scent upstairs and there, in the kitchen, wearing fuzzy green Farmer John long underwear, chicken feet slippers, underwater goggles and a snorkel, stood Boyfriend, next to a brand new, shiny Black and Decker coffee maker, both of which were burbling happily. Upon closer inspection, I could see there were little pink and gold heart stickers on the coffee pot handle and the goggles.
"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetie," he said, handing me the most perfect cup of of coffee I have ever tasted, before or since.
(What he actually said, because of the snorkel, was "Mmm-mmy Mummemmmum Mahh, meeemme" but that loses a little something in the telling.)
The Tim's I had today does not come even remotely close to that cup of coffee. In fact, I would say it wasn't even in the same solar system, but I suppose I owe them a debt of thanks for reminding me why I love coffee so much. I don't love it because of the tingle in my fingertips, or the pounding in my veins or even because of what I am now dreadfully worried may in fact be dead badger in my undercarriage. I love it because every sip reminds me of that wonderful silly man, in chicken slippers and a snorkel for no reason, handing me a fresh cup of coffee and telling me, as he does every day in a thousand ways, that he loves me.
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| Me and my Valentine |
