I’m completely unable to function without a cup of coffee in the morning.
Now, I realize lots of people say “Oh, I’m useless without coffee!” or “Can’t start my morning with my cuppa joe!” (I actually don’t know anyone who says that last one. But surely someone does.) But when I say I am not a person before coffee, I mean, I am an angry, zombie-like, unintelligent creature.
I used to try to make it all the way to work before drinking a cup of coffee. That’s like two hours, ya’ll. I’d do completely stupid things like shaving only one leg or forgetting to brush my teeth. I finally realized that I got ready in half the time with none of the drama if I drank coffee before I left the house. It also kept me from spending my first hour at work answering every question with “I haven’t had coffee yet. I’ll have to get back to you.”
Last week, through a serious of tragic events, I woke up late and decided to just save the coffee for work. I managed to shower, shave both legs, brush my teeth, and remember all my items. I drove to work without crashing. I even was wearing a cute, whitish dress.
Patting myself on the back for my ability to do simple, human tasks without being drugged, I went about my normal office routine. This involved walked to and from the kitchen several times, past lots of people.
Two cups of coffee later, I was in the bathroom, wishing my office would realize that watering down the soap is good for no one, when I noticed my un-caffeinated self had decided to pair bright yellow underwear with my white, see-throughish dress.
These underwear were like a little welcoming beacon for my butt. “Hello! I am here! I am YELLOW! I am not office-appropriate!” my butt said. I stared, aghast. My underwear had been practically shouting to my co-workers for about an hour at this point.
I tried arranging my dress to poof away from my body. “I AM CLAD IN YELLOW LIKE THE SUN!” said my butt.
The dress had a tie. I untied it to try to make it look like an unclingly sack. “THE WHOLE WORLD MUST KNOW OF MY GLORY!” my butt exclaimed.
I hurried back into a stall. Should I leave? Would going commando be worse or better? How many people had my butt greeted today?
I was suddenly struck with inspiration. I turned my underwear inside-out.
“I am sad and demure,” mourned my butt.
Flush with caffeine and victory, I vowed to never leave the house without drinking coffee again. In the end, it is comforting to know that most of my problems can be solved by just drugging myself.