A resting metabolic rate test. Three rules – no eating within 4 hours, no exercise, no coffee.
Results in hand, proof and permission that I need to be a chow box in order to survive, I hop back in the car to head on my way to coffee. Forget the results, forget that fact that I haven’t eaten in hours. It’s almost afternoon and I haven’t even started my day with coffee yet. But fear not coffee I am ON THE WAY.
I’m driving to the coffee shop when I realize Chris had played the most evil of all evil tricks on me. He made me drive his car. Actually, there was a choice – would you like to drive the sports car….or the mini-van. Hmmm, let’s see. Since my car’s engine walked out of the hood last week, I have been driving around the mini-van. Quickest way to feel 10 years older and drive 10 mph slower no matter where you are going? Drive a mini van. So, today, Saturday, I will choose not the mini van, I choose the sports car.
Recall, if you will, the sports car, aka the shake machine, that is cool in every other way except for the fact that it is missing one key thing – COFFEE CUP HOLDERS. And with manual transmission holding a piping hot cup of coffee is not a choice.
Realizing this as I drive, I realize also that coffee on the way home is not a choice. Sure, I could stop in a shop and sit there and drink my coffee alone but come on – nothing says psychocreepystalker like someone drinking in a coffee shop alone. With a magazine or a book is one thing. But by yourself, cup in hand – that’s just wrong. And that is why friends don’t let friends drink coffee alone. So I’m not about to start.
I drive home. I pull up and tell Chris he is evil and wrong for giving me a car without coffee cup holders when he knows I have gone without coffee to this point of the day. He laughs then says something about running an errand and needing a ride and then the word coffee comes out. I tell him I have understood nothing in the conversation except for the word coffee so can we please take the mini van, drive to a coffee shop, sit there and drink our coffee….like 6 hours ago NOW.
At this point you are wondering why didn’t she just make coffee at home? Especially when she has 100 percent Kona coffee sitting in her cupboards? When she has a French press and a coffeemaker at hand? These are very good questions but you have no right to ask them because this is not a test. It’s just my story. So listen and don’t ask. But since you asked, I confess that I am on strike against the Cadillac. I am done cleaning that bitch of a machine. Besides no matter how much I scrub it never looks clean. And it has too many parts. Plus I am on break and that means on break for doing anything that requires more than minimum effort. You could say I am on coffee holiday, too, so bear with me here.
A short while later, Chris drives me to the coffee shop. Best he drive because I am approaching condition under which I should not operate a heavy-large-makes-you-drive-10mph-slower-than-you-should-machine. In fact, I cannot believe my body has been awake and coherent while uncaffeinated for over 6 hours. A medical miracle for sure.
Once at the coffee shop, I walk in the door and Chris says “give me a minute while I use the restroom.” Oh no, all of the minutes are gone. I am not waiting one minute longer for coffee so either get in line with me or I’m ordering for you and you’ll take what I get. He doesn’t hear me say any of that because it was all in my head plus he walked off to the bathroom minutes ago.
My non-stop no more waiting plan is foiled. I’m stopped in a line about 20 feet from the register. Ahead of me are many moms and dads and around me is teeming with kids. Literally a coffee shop filled to the brim with kids. As if that wasn’t enough the kids are screaming. They are also running. But I like running so I’ll let that one slide.
Of course I’m not sure any of this is real because I haven’t had coffee yet. And the world without coffee is like you’re there but not really there. You’re not saying anything but everything is too loud. You awake but asleep and you're not sure where you really are.
But I am awake enough to know that I am in a coffee shop and I am hearing violation of implicit coffee shop rules. You see, the massive mom and dad group in front of me has just ordered five hot chocolates.
Wait...I’m sorry...I haven’t had coffee yet, so I’m not sure if I really heard what I just heard….did someone just say hot chocolate in a coffee shop?
Yes, five of them, essentially they said it five times.
Get out. Get out now. Leave your children behind. Wait, no, take them if they are the ones making all that noise. But before you go, have a seat, please. We need to talk. You do not order hot chocolate in a coffee shop. I’m telling you this for your own good. There are coffee lovers that are ready to rise up in revolt against people like you, coffee lovers that would be willing to pay a one dollar entry fee at the door to keep people like you out. Understand this is not a chocolate shop. This is a coffee shop. Let me take you by the hand lead you outside to where the sign above the door says COFFEE SHOP. Not chocolate. Just coffee. And notice around here we don’t say “hot” coffee because in our language the “hot” is not only silent by implied.
Now before we re-enter the coffee shop, please give me a dollar to cover the newly implemented keep-people-like-you-out entry fee.
None of this worked. In fact, none of it was even heard. Even if they could hear in my head they wouldn't pay attention because they were too wrapped up in discussion about their hot chocolates. Actually about the size. I am in the only coffee shop around here that actually speaks their sizes in the English language and these people are debating about size. Let me introduce you to small (which is small), medium (which is medium), and large (which is large). Since you have small children, order the small (hot) chocolates and get out of this line.
I guess they again didn’t hear me (no one seems to hear me today) because then they asked if the small is a kids small or a small small.
You see, this is what is wrong with our world. Small is small is small. What is a kids small? And does it really exist? How can something be smaller than small? How small would that be? And how small do I have to be to order a kids small? Would the smallest of smalls be worth paying for and would I even be able to see it all? And if was that small wouldn’t it just be tiny?
Since when did beverages get so complicated? And do you see my point about why you shouldn’t order hot chocolate in a coffee shop? Because it paves the way for problems like this. If you said we only serve coffee than no of this would even come up (unless you consider all those people that order their lattes with vanilla soy and three splendas and no foam…).
At this point, my brain cells are starting to shrivel and die from lack of caffeine. I am going to cry, or scream, or lay down and take a nap. I just want coffee. At the very least please just let me hold the cup. I am so close to the head of the line. But so damn complicated and far away. Is there an express line for those of us that just want coffee in a cup?
Finally the hot chocolate hubbub gets sorted out and I believe they decided upon five kid-sized smalls. Which are as small as small but smaller. In case you were wondering. And also in case you were wondering they were so hot the kids didn’t really drink them but instead just ran around screaming so more.
Meanwhile, I had (finally) ordered my coffee in cup. The cup was medium (which is perfect for small adults – solve that one Sherlock), the coffee was hot. And the feeling was great. In between screams and stampedes of small hot chocolatey children, Chris and I chatted about the symbolic meaning of the coffee cup and how what it represents really isn’t real at all. It only exists because we gave it meaning. Kind of like a kids small cup.
Twenty minutes later, I was caffeinated, I was ready to start my day. I can’t speak for what happened during the previous 6 hours when I was not caffeinated but I seem to have hazy memories of feeling really small and hearing the world hot chocolate resonate in my ears.
But then again, without coffee, one can never be sure.