It is Thursday. And a friend just told me that when she was handed her morning coffee through a local fast-food restaurant drive-through window, the guy inside yelled to her before she could drive off, so he could give her a plastic spoon. In case, he said, there was anything in the bottom of her coffee.
Let me repeat that: in case there was anything in the bottom of her coffee.
So I made my own cup o’ joe today, at home, and was pretty clear what was, and was not, in the bottom of it.
At no point did I know the discomfort of lurking uncertainty in my mug of morning comfort, hallelujah. And I am still waiting to hear my friend scream, as she navigates the last of her subversive java …
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