As most of you know I am not a morning person and if you don't believe me, Spongebob will certainly vouch for this personality defect. If the delightful sea-faring cartoon sponge man is not enough of a witness for you, I have another story that is sure to pound my morning-detesting mantra home.
After a miserable week in detox (day 7 on antibiotics- 8 more to go- thanks to my effing sinus affection), I was looking forward to a Friday morning snow shower that would effectively cancel my morning commute and allow me to work blissfully from home. However, I should have realized this was a pie-in-the-sky dream because our building never closes down. But they have provided us with an emergency hot line that we can call! Oh, joy, doesn't that just warm the cockles of your heart?
The recorded message hasn't changed much in the past 5 years. It's always, "The building will be open but as always use your discretion when operating your vehicle, blah, blah, blah." It could be the apocalypse and the message would be the same: "The building will be open but as always use your discretion when operating your vehicle during hellfire conditions. Please be aware of fault line cracks, falling brimstone, and blood thirsty harpies. And make sure to alert your manager should your arms be torn asunder by avenging angels."
But I digress!
It was 8:00 am and after a sleepless night, I was seething when the alarm shrieked in my ear. I groggily hit the offending radio with gusto. Hard. In fact, I knocked it clear off my bedside table, which in turn toppled over my bright orange codeine-infused cough syrup. Which spilled all over my new violet 1100 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Hoorah!
Ignoring the spreading orange blossom on my sheets, I lurched off the bed and grabbed for the only bright light in the cave of darkness that was my morning. My lovely, iridescent bag of Godiva caramel coffee. Mmmm... my deliciously naughty, wonderfully decadent caffeine. My fingertips brushed against the outside of the bag in a caress that was both loving and needy and just a bit desperate. Slowly, delicately, I peeled back the folds and prepared to take a deep, enriched breath.
The bag was empty. That faithless, cocktease caffeine whore.
I slammed the offending bitch into the garbage, jumped angrily in the shower, and wished fervently for hellfire and brimstone instead of zero coffee.
This black mood lasted entirely through my morning commute, sans coffee, and I decided firmly that I would keep myself holed up in my office with the door shut for at least an additional hour before bearing my visage to the rest of the world. I was sadly mistaken.
The rest of the world would see a lot more than that before the morning was over.
As I trudged down the hallway, towards my office- which is right across from our floor's big conference room- in my tightly clad leggings and snow boots (wishful thinking) with my laptop and gym bag balanced precariously on my chipped shoulders. Someone called out my name and I cocked my head to the side. This simple flutter of a movement was just enough to upset my equilibrium and I suddenly and rather violently tripped, head over ass,... right into the open supply closet. Directly outside of the conference room. Full of authors.
Oh yes, yes I did. But perhaps the best part of all of this was the fact that instead of investigating the loud crash that had so abruptly occurred outside the conference room, the woman running the meeting quietly got up and shut the door. As I struggled to extract myself amidst company pens and cleaning supplies.
This is why I should never be allowed to go without coffee.