Oceans of java
The caffeine courses through me
Yet still I crave sleep
If the falling rain
was coffee instead, I still
wouldn’t have enough.
Alarm clock @ 5:15: *Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz* WAKE UP. WAKE UP. *Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
Me: Huh? Wha? Huh?
Alarm Clock: WAKE UP. Or I will continue to blare Top 40 Country hits until I wake up your wife and daughters.
Me: Huh? Wha?
Me: Wait, what is going on here?
Me: Does that clock say 5:15? Who the hell set the alarm for 5:15?
Me: Oh wait, I set the alarm for 5:15.
Me: Why on earth did I set the alarm for 5:15 again?
Me: *slides out of bed, turns off the alarm*
Alarm Clock: See ya tomorrow, sucker.
My Body: Wait. What are you doing standing up? We should be sleeping right now.
Me: I’m not exactly sure, myself. Brain, you want to weigh in?
My Brain: You’ve reached Ross’ Brain. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back as soon as possible. Hahahaha.
Body: Seriously. Get horizontal now, or I’m gonna do it for you.
Me: Wait. Running. I’m supposed to go running this morning.
Body: Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m going running this morning. Actually, I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation with you. I’m going back to bed.
Me: (weakly) No.
Body: Excuse me?
Me: (more strongly) Just give me a minute. Nap while I stand here and think for a second.
Body: Ok, get back to me when you decide to go back to bed.
Me: *shuffles to kitchen, makes cup of coffee and toasted english muffin w/ peanut butter*
Brain: Is that coffee?
Me: I think so.
Brain: *sniffs* GIMME.
Me: Hold on, it’s too hot.
Brain: DON’T CARE. GIMME.
Brain: Oof. Why am I so fuzzy?
Me: Because it’s 5:27?
Brain: Yeah, that’d do it. Ok, drink your coffee and I’ll check back in with you in 10.
Me: *sips coffee and eats breakfast in silence*
Brain: Hey, so, question for you…
Brain: Do you really need me on this run? Or can I check out until you’re done?
Me: Um. As long as I’m aware enough to watch out for cars, I should be ok.
Brain: Cool, yo. Catch you later!
Me: *gets geared up, stretches, and heads out the door*
Me: *starts to jog down the block*
Body: WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. WHOA. What the hell are you DOING??
Me: Running. Or at least trying to.
Body: Who told you that you could do that?
Me: Um. I need to. I want to. I think.
Body: You could have asked me.
Me: You were off in dreamland. Next time, help me out when I’m trying to get up and I’ll ask for your input.
Body: Yeah, like that’s gonna ever happen.
Me: Asking for your input?
Body: No, me helping you out.
Body: I’ll have you know I’m doing this under duress.
Me: I know. BELIEVE ME, I know.
Body: I’m not going to like this, you know.
Me: Yes you will.
Body: I’ll believe it when I see it.
Me: Um, you like running.
Body: NOT AT THE BUTTCRACK OF DAWN I DON’T.
Me: Relax, relax. Look, we’re already a half-mile in to the run. Don’t you feel better?
Body: Not really.
Me: Then why are you running a minute faster pace than you were when we started?
Body: Because the sooner I hit 4 miles, the sooner I’m done with this running crap.
Me: That’s the ticket. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll go far.
Body: Yeah, not the best way to convince me to keep going.
Brain: HEY GUYS! MAN, THESE ARE SOME MONDO ENDORPHINS! I FEEL GREAT! I’M FLYING! I COULD REPROVE FERMAT’S LAST THEOREM WITH NO PAPER RIGHT NOW! MAN, DON’T YOU STOP RUNNING, EVER!
Me & Body: Shut up. Shut up now, or I will watch reruns of According to Jim until you shrivel up and are left sobbing in the deepest recesses of my head.
Brain: (meekly) OK. Hey, look out for that car.
Brain: Don’t mention it.
Body: Um, guys – next time, can you plan a route that doesn’t involve hills?
Brain: That’s sort of hard to do around here. We can minimize ‘em, but unless we make laps in the neighborhood or drive over to the middle school track, it’s hard to keep it level.
Body: Fine by me!
Brain: Laps around the neighborhood are only slightly more appetizing than watching episodes of Deal or No Deal. I will do everything in my power to sabotage you at work today if you force me to do that more than once a week.
Me: Ok, ok, settle down, guys. Look, we’ll work out a compromise later. Right now though, let’s just get through this last mile and then we can move on to something a little more fun this morning.
Body: Like sleep?
Brain: Like more coffee?
Me: How about – a shower, some yogurt, and a nice leisurely drive to work with air conditioning and some interesting podcasts to listen to?
Body and Brain: Deal.
Me: *sighs* And to think I’m crazy enough to consider training for a half-marathon this fall.
Body and Brain: WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. WHOA.
I’m really not sure what the deal is, but I’m moving in slow motion this morning. Everything is taking about twice as long as it should. If I didn’t have this important project to finish up, I’d seriously consider climbing under my desk, George Costanza-style, taking a nap, and trying to reboot the workday. I still may do it if I don’t “wake up” and get moving in the next hour or so…
(Click to enbiggen)
- We’ve got at least one individual with very strong passive-aggressive tendencies in the office. They also apparently don’t know how to use their spell-check program, although they did quite a nice job at the formatting for the “Low Coffee Level” contestants. (I would have centered the headings above the blank spaces, but that’s just a personal preference.)
- We’ve got at least one smartass in the office (not counting myself [and I did not write either the note or the response])
- I am almost positive this is going to escalate into a conflict of epic proportions, and the only solution will be to nuke the coffee machine and have everyone start drinking tea. Stocking up on my Earl Grey, just in case.
Hope that post title caught your attention! It's true. And if you're skeptical, just read on.
This morning I made an unscheduled trip to my local Dunkin' Donuts for a
heart-clogging treat breakfast sandwich & coffee. The drive-through line appeared a bit shorter than the mass of people inside clamoring for sustenance of the sugary sort, so I decided to remain in my automobile and continue listening to my podcast of Spider on the Web. There were about four cars in front of me waiting to spout orders to the faceless speaker box that consistently garbles my orders, but the one that drew my attention was the one just before me in line – a black sporty Saturn coupe.
The woman within was obviously in a hurry – I mean, after all, who else would simultaneously be applying makeup, talking on a cell phone, AND honking their horn at the car ahead of them (indicating it should move up to close the half-car gap between it and the car in front of it)? I guess the guy in the old piece-of-crap car decided she was in a hurry, too, and that she deserved to take his spot. Because he backed up, bumping squarely into her front bumper, and then pulled out around the other cars in line, apparently intent on leaving the line and presumably, the lot.
As you might expect, Ms. Patience took umbrage to this action, and peeled out after the beater, honking her horn incessantly to flag him down. Whether she planned to extract revenge with a pair of tweezers or a call to her lawyer I could not say, but the look of determination on her face as she zipped around the building made me sure she would achieve her goal, whatever it was.
A movement in my rear-view mirror caught my eye and I looked back to see Mr. Fed-Up circle around and pull into a handicapped spot at a diagonal, Ms. Patience hot on his heels. She pulled her car up behind him so the nose of her car was blocking him in, and started lowering her window to give him a piece of her mind. What she planned to say next was quickly driven from her mind as she watched Mr. Fed-Up put his car into reverse, back up directly into the front corner of her car hard enough to make both cars rock on their wheels, and then pull in more-or-less straight into one of the parking spots.
It was at this point that the two participants in this little automobile ballet got out of their cars and confronted each other. I paused long enough to make sure they were going to interact verbally instead of physically, and just about the time I saw Ms. Patience get on her phone to call the police, I had to pull forward (and out of line-of-sight) in order to give my own breakfast order.
I made sure to circle the building once more after I got my food a few minutes later, checking to make sure that neither one was going to go postal on the other. Ms. Patience had pulled into another parking space and was sitting patiently, waiting for the police. Mr. Fed-Up appeared to have gone inside, probably thinking that if he had to sit around waiting for the police to show up, he might as well do it with a coffee & donut in hand. I hope he bought an extra half-dozen for the responding officer(s) – it probably wouldn't help his case any, but at least it wouldn't hurt it.
As I drove off, I couldn't help but think about how strong the addiction to caffeine can be. Before their morning cuppa joe, most people are sleepy, irate, dazed, slow, or depressed, and more often than not, all of the above. And then, I wonder just how many accidents or attacks of road rage like the one I experienced this morning could have been easily avoided with the judicious application of a decent cup of Maxwell House.