This morning, I found myself approaching the coffee grinder with a pot full of yesterday's coffee. What I intended to do there, I couldn't tell you.
Sometimes I can imagine I'm being piloted by tiny aliens or that remote in The Upside Down Show. But are they piloting me toward the coffee grinder? Or are they leaping in to save said device? Perhaps my grinder comes complete with a mind control defense chip. A force field against idiots.
Too bad I'm not a writer, or I might be able to come up with some kind of story there...
But, really, I think the answer lies in the title of this post. Those who need coffee the most are those who are least able to make it.
(P.S. Sliding in under the wire, our heroine scribbles a solid 700 words of storificatin' in the last hour before bed. Hoping that helps me sleep.)