Throne of Straits

My friends, coffee is not music. It’s true that you can sometimes get away with playing loudly, and some people do, in fact, believe it sounds better. This principle does not apply to a cuppa joe.  The radioactive waste that my office serves in vacuum-sealed packages and labels as “coffee” is unfixable. Even if you added A LOT of creamer, you will not be able to rid yourself of its woeful ails until you pour so much creamer that it eradicates the so-called coffee from the mug.

Unfortunately, I took the opposite approach this morning, the “music” approach, and added a second package. As one of little foresight and poor cause-and-effect rationale, I must admit the restroom and I are now well acquainted, and the “coffee” is, in a word, vim. Take this how you will, but for me, I’d argue that it has its own life form and seeks to eradicate itself of you as much as you ought do of it.

You know what they say: You live and you learn… or die trying.

Dubious