I have been out of coffee for over a week. For those of you who do not suffer from a caffeine addiction, let me tell you that being out of coffee is like trying to go without deodorant for a week. You can make do, but everyone else suffers.
Yesterday I finally went grocery shopping and bought my favorite coffee and several types of creamers. I got a little carried away. But by the time I got home, it was too late to make coffee and still be able to sleep through the night, so I abstained. This morning, I woke up and stumbled into the kitchen and started my morning routine of making Noah and myself breakfast. I belatedly realized I had coffee and got very excited and jumped up and down while I made my coffee.
Noah very sagely shook his head and said, "You like coffee a whole bunch don't you?"
I agreed with his assessment and danced around while I waited for my coffee to be done. When it was, I poured myself a massive cup, loaded it with milk and creamer and started to walk to the table.
Enter Satan.
Satan sometimes goes by the alias of Maximus the Dino Cat. Or, as the locals refer to him, Max. Max picked the moment when I walking from the kitchen to the dining room table to dart out from his lair at warp speed and crash head first into my legs. Either he is partially retarded and could not gauge the distance between my legs and the several feet of open space all around me, or he was actually trying to kill me. He did not succeed. I survived.
But my coffee didn't.
And this is what happened.
Meanwhile, Noah is cracking up. For a creature who received his life by leeching off of my body for nine months and then breaking my vagina as he forced his way into the world, you would think he would have some semblance of sympathy. No. When he saw me glaring at him, he shrugged his shoulders and said...
"Come on, Mom, you gotta' admit. That was pretty funny."
No comments:
Post a Comment