coffee talk

it’s not the being single thing that gets to me. that part I don’t mind. I’ve grown quite comfortable in my independence, solitude and skin. plus, it’s kind of awesome sleeping with a cat and being lulled to sleep by purring as opposed to awoken by what sounds like a freight train; i.e., someone snoring.

but, the hardest thing for me bout being single is the whole process of making coffee in the morning. I’m so addicted to it, I can’t seem to fully function until I’ve had at least several sips —and the stronger the better.

I realize I could buy one of those coffee machines you can program to make coffee at any time of day you’d like in order to not even worry about it… but the truth of the matter is, it just doesn’t taste as good as my trusty ol French press.

however, with great coffee comes great preparation.

the French press is a process.

first of all, I need to clean the mothafucka. every time. I mean, you can’t just toss those leftovers coffee grounds into the sink. and nobody wants to drink out of a dirty press.

then, I gotta grind the beans. I like my coffee as fresh and as strong as possible. (don’t get me started on those coffee pods Keurig dealios. that ain’t coffee. that’s tasteless, cheap garbage. the only excuse to ever use or have one of those is for your customers at a car dealership.)

lastly, after the grinds and boiled water are added into the press, I gotta wait at least four mins for it to steep.

so... it’s a process. and a bit of a detailed one with multiple steps for someone still wiping coal out their eyes before 6a.

and every time, I bitch about it.

to my cat, of course. she’s the only one here besides me so she gets to deal with my bull shit. and she takes it in stride since she doesn’t need coffee so doesn’t have that morning stick up her ass like us humans who are addicted to the brown stuff.

“just once, it’d be nice for you to fix me a cup of joe. just once.”

I grumble to my cat on the daily, as she looks at me, squints, and goes back to licking herself.

she couldn’t care less.

I envy that.

I’ve become a full blown coffee addict over the course of the past 30 years due to regular consumption. and even though I’m only drinking a cup to two cups a day first thing in the morn, if I go a day without it I legit suffer the withdrawal symptoms; i.e., a killer headache and irritability.

I sit here writing this after just finishing off my first cup.

cat on my lap. feline paralysis in full effect as the coffee starts to jolt me to life.

and already thinkin bout that second cup of coffee, but unable to move due to said cat on my lap… I stare longingly at my French press on the kitchen counter ten feet out of reach.

“just once, it’d be nice for you to fix me a second cup of coffee. just once.”

I grumble to my cat as I give her scritches under her chin.

she purrs.

I smile and realize I can wait.

that second cup ain’t goin anywhere… and the coffee’s already made.