Three cups of coffee

I was thinking on the walk home from school this morning how each cup of coffee I consume in the morning has its own unique characteristic. Personality, even.

The first cup, for example, isn’t so much about taste, but rather a jolt. (No, that’s not right, I hate jolts, or rushing, or loud noises that early.) The first cup is like a lifeline. It gets consumed, almost gulped, and I can’t say I’m fully aware of its properties, however yummy they may be.

The second cup, usually sipped and savoured shortly after the first cup, has a much more prominent presence. You know what I mean? I can smell the lovely scent with my nose, I can feel the warmth of the cup with my hand, I can taste the full-bodied deliciousness on my tongue. I enjoy the second cup.

Unfortunately I cannot have a third cup until after the children are dropped off. The school is a 5-block walk one way, and by the time I return home 45 minutes later, my bladder, which, incidentally is the size of a coffee bean, cannot hold it any longer. Discomfort due to coffee is unpleasant.

So now I sit here with my freshly brewed third cuppa joe, and can once again feel the love.


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