Life and Coffee
Mar. 9th, 2004 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xaaraIt's another one of those days, folks, when you can't get out of bed in the morning and you want to curl up after the alarm clock jarrs you awake and pretend like you're sick so you don't have to go to school. But you have to get up anyway and no matter what you think you have to get on that train and go. Then, hypothetically speaking, let's say you forget what you did with your softball glove last night and have to scramble around looking for it. Still hypothetically speaking, you can't find that glove and are almost reduced to humiliating frustrated tears as you run out the door, forgetting your lunch and first period homework.
Isn't life wonderful?
Actually, it is - and here's why. You get to school, frozen because you didn't dress for the suddenly cold weather, and across from the intimidating front door is a tiny warm deli. From this deli drifts the smell of frying bacon and eggs and you decide on a whim that you want to stop in. So you go in, buy a cup of coffee - black, of course - pay for it, smile at the man at the counter, and walk outside.
That first sip is a little bit of heaven on earth. It's warm and a rush of caffeine - it's everything a cold windy cloudy day is not, and it makes your morning.
And so you stumble into school burning your fingers on a little flimsy paper cup, smile at the security guard - grampa, we call him behind his back - and run up all three flights of stairs to first period, where the teacher smiles at your giddiness and tells you, yes, of course you can bring the homework in tomorrow, you've never missed an assignment before and that's perfectly fine.
Life is wonderful.
Isn't life wonderful?
Actually, it is - and here's why. You get to school, frozen because you didn't dress for the suddenly cold weather, and across from the intimidating front door is a tiny warm deli. From this deli drifts the smell of frying bacon and eggs and you decide on a whim that you want to stop in. So you go in, buy a cup of coffee - black, of course - pay for it, smile at the man at the counter, and walk outside.
That first sip is a little bit of heaven on earth. It's warm and a rush of caffeine - it's everything a cold windy cloudy day is not, and it makes your morning.
And so you stumble into school burning your fingers on a little flimsy paper cup, smile at the security guard - grampa, we call him behind his back - and run up all three flights of stairs to first period, where the teacher smiles at your giddiness and tells you, yes, of course you can bring the homework in tomorrow, you've never missed an assignment before and that's perfectly fine.
Life is wonderful.
