I refuse to use the grey mug sitting in the corner of the room. I glance over in its direction and watch it staring at me with its handle pompously held out and elevated to resemble a dramatic stance from a person who has their hand on their hip. At first, I felt as though the very existence of this particular mug sitting on a ledge in my room was an attempt to mock my efforts to achieve set goals, but I am beginning to see the mug as a visual reminder and tangible motivator outside of completing my intended task of writing a book. I do not want to use my National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) mug until I finish writing the rest of my novel. (more…)
“I have a London Fog with almond milk here on the bar.” The man behind the small coffee shop counter set down my reusable thermos filled with scalding tea and milk and smiled at me.
“Thanks,” I said adjusting my reading glasses and grabbing the cup. I brought the beverage over to the uncomfortable couch where I was sitting and placed the lid on top. I picked up my laptop and began typing up an article where I had left off.
It was part of my weekly routine. I would walk into the loud local coffee shop downtown and write for an hour or so after work before going home. It was the only way I would be sure that I got some writing in, and the only other opportunity where I could relax while eavesdropping on people. (more…)
I tried to stifle a yawn as I moseyed over with the travel cup, that I brought from home, in-hand to the Keurig to make a cup of piping hot coffee. My short journey from my new desk to the tepid machine, who decided on its own who and at what time they would get their morning pick-me-up, became my mini break among the busyness of event planning and building social media content online.
I ended up running into another co-worker by the Keurig in the kitchenette who was warming up a leftover snack in the microwave, which always strongly smelled like the thing the last person who used it put in to it. I greeted her with a familiar grin, since she had sat right across from my desk when I was an intern on the other side of the office. (more…)
The cool breeze that subtly rustled through the tall palm trees on that Sunday morning greeted us as we made our way to the small restaurant. We had gotten up at a decent time to eat brunch and then spend the rest day together, but there was still a line waiting outside of the door with potential patrons holding white lettering printed on bright orange mugs filled with coffee.
Although the weather outside seemed a little gloomy, everyone seemed to be in an incredibly good mood. We put our names down on the waiting list and passed the next twenty minutes of time by taking a short stroll around the nearby shopping center.
We were seated somewhere in the middle of the breakfast/brunch establishment and our waitress immediately came over to ask us about our drink order.
“Would you like any coffee?” (more…)
I let the steaming hot java pour into my Beatles thermos, poured a little hazelnut creamer in to the black liquid, and capped it off with the thermos’ matching black top.
“You sure do drink a lot of coffee,” my sister said to me while watching me prepare my beverage in the kitchen from the living room.
I looked at her, “I maybe have a cup or two a day. No big deal.”
“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” my sister looked almost disgusted at my actions. “Everyone is so addicted to that stuff to where they have to have it everyday. You know it’s bad for you if you’re having headaches and getting cranky if you don’t have that daily dose of coffee.”
“Well, I’m not addicted to coffee. I can stop at any time.”