In Vino Veritas

C has this coffee maker. I have no idea what brand it is.  She won it our freshman year, at a dorm give-away-raffle-finals-week type of event. I did not go with her, instead I think I was studying.
 
Okay, I have no idea where I was.  

Not the point, the point is that this coffee maker must be blessed or something.  Maybe, just maybe, that two weeks we spent as Buddhists the same year paid off.  After four years it is still chugging away, brewing brilliant cup after cup of magical black crack.  

I, on the other hand, have now gone through five coffee makers in the past three years. What. The. Fuck.

Oh sure, I can’t even take care of myself, and I write that while NOT resting my elbow on the counter due to the massive bruises I have down my arm from falling over nothing.  Having taken up station at my mini kitchen counter (Alfred, my many legged, crawly and unwelcome roommate, called my room for the day) my latest conquest just sits there and taunts me, all shiny and proper looking and fucking useless. USELESS. Oh, H, you want some coffee? Too fucking bad, go to Starbucks.

I was supposed to write about everything being in shambles, but in fact I am fine.  I mean, my company went under.  Bummer. I still have my health, though.  C and I are still being awesome and practicing the art of world domination  

In fact, I am having a really great fucking time, being what some call “without employment.”  I am meeting with people who I never would have reached out to if it weren’t for recent events and embracing that I can do anything at this point. Anything! Anything.

I even spent four days at my parents. I took a train ride to Springfield.  I read a book. Then I read two more.  I finally caught up on my roommate’s DVD collection. My room is cleaner than it has ever been and my closet is organized by season and occasion.  I have been to the gym, every single day for the past three weeks.

I am, as C’s exclusive, unlabeled manfriend would say “enjoying life!”

Or, you know, I would be, if it weren’t for this goddamn caffeine contraption, all full of lies, deceit and disappointment. Sitting. Staring. Meaning well but ruining my otherwise very pleasant day.  Son of a nutcracker.

-H