I am a coffee person, plain and simple. I need hot coffee every morning, even if it’s 100 degrees out. I am slightly distrustful of people who are indifferent towards coffee. Hate it if you must, but to say you just don’t care? Well, that’s wrong.
I drink it black, no sugar. I know that some people like their dairy or sweetener in it, but that’s not for me. Why ruin the taste of pure coffee goodness? Flavored coffees, like your hazelnut or French vanilla or strawberry rhubarb, are just plain icky to me. And don’t even get me started on the frozen frappacilatta things. That’s a damn milkshake, admit it!
As part of my morning coffee ritual, I use the same mug every morning. It’s a good size mug with a couple of cute little snowmen on it. I have no particular sentimental attachment to this mug, in that it wasn’t given to me by my sainted grandmother or anything, but it’s the one I always use.
Until today. Today I used a different mug, some ordinary thing with a company logo on it. I don’t even know why I did this—my regular mug was right there. It was a whim, and I am not even particularly prone to whims.
Well, I paid the price for my capricious behavior. My coffee wasn’t nearly as good. It was…lacking somehow. I thought about switching mugs halfway through, but worried that that would be weird and obsessive.
I should have been weird and obsessive. My coffee was nowhere near as good, I didn’t feel as energized by the caffeine (leading me to believe that some of it was leeched out by the inferior mug), and, basically, my whole day has been kind of crappy.
I’m sorry little snowman mug. I never should have strayed.