I see from your lack of enthusiasm about my stories that either you hate my work or you want short stuff only. Optimist that I am, I'm opting to assume the latter. Okay, so be it:
In the course of any life of sufficient duration to grant the person ‘mature’ status, the grantee comes to expect that certain indignities will present themselves from time to time. Whether it’s the occasional bout of disrespect from one’s children, co-workers, friends, or even the world at large, we learn to take it in stride and go on about our business, confident in our hope that this, too, shall pass.
At some point, however, every reasonably sane individual with a modicum of spunk will, inevitably look around, fail to recognize the landmarks of the course he’d previously set and shout, “enough, already!” Dear readers, I have reached that point.
I’m drinking TEA, for chris’sake! TEA!! Excuse me, please, I need to stop and compose myself…
Please understand… coffee has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My romance with the bean has transcended nearly five decades, thumbing its nose at adversity, never failing to please. While flying DC-3’s (the world’s oldest aircraft) in the Marine Corps, I drank coffee from urns installed as original equipment thirty years previous and never changed... urns so dirty that cockroaches refused to contact them… I never got sick and loved every single drop! While working on the drilling platform of an oil rig, no one questioned whether the coffee was weak or strong, good or bad… it was just coffee. So long as it was warmer than room temperature, no one complained. It was the angel on our shoulders… and unlike a couple of my early paramours, it was loyal to a fault.
At some point, it learned all it needed to know about me and chose to overlook it. I’ve had friends who did less…
And now, I’m being asked to abandon it for (according to the label) a blend of several different types of mint leaves, a little orange peel, rose hips and hibiscus. Can you believe that? Hibiscus…? And exactly what the hell are rose hips? I'm not sure I even want to know.
I’m drinking flowers, I think. I’m not exactly sure what hibiscus is, but if memory serves, I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of flower. I think it’s the flower that Hawaiian girls put behind their ear when greeting you as you step off the airplane.
With every flat, unsatisfying, uninspiring sip a little more of my psyche is ripped from its roots deep within my cerebellum, exposing pink tissue never before expected to take a place in my personality. I can only hope the cells are quick learners.
Well, enough… it is what it is. I need to stop bitching and eat my 4-oz bowl of 40% bran flakes covered up with an equal amount of skim milk. Hooray… breakfast.
If this is too long, let me know and I'll see if I can condense it down to two or three sentences.