I like coffee. I greatly esteem coffee. No, I LOVE coffee. I used to ask for it in my milk when I was a kid. Whether going to bed at Nana’s or waking up at Grandma’s house, the smell of coffee and the sound of it percolating are laced into all of my childhood memories. The sound of a spoon ticking its way around a mug is still one of my favourite sounds. I believe my blood is made up of ink and coffee.
I drink four or five cups a day, and these days I do finish every last drop. I wait for it to cool before I drink it, because I don’t think steaming hot coffee tastes of anything much. When my friends make or buy their second one, I start my first. And no matter how many I’ve had I always try and have the next on deck.
When Sarge asked me to move in with him, the closest thing I got to any kind of domestic thought was wondering what kind of coffee machine we’d get. I’d be outside shop windows, pointing at ones I wanted, saying we should make our first joint purchase. He’d steer my away, mumbling something abut drinking too much tea to justify a shiny, red, and really quite beautiful De’ Longhi Espresso machine.
Before I met Sarge my tea drinking was limited to the iced variety. I had to have laryngitis before I touched the hot kind, pinching my nose as I glugged it down. I had, and quite liked, vanilla tea as a kid. I stopped drinking it when I grew up, and Sarge presented me with a box of it on our second date. I have since been introduced to lots of other delightful teas, but my first hot/lukewarm drink love will always be coffee. Hot chocolate with marshmallows is a very close second.
On the eve of my most recent birthday, I answered the door to Sarge, whose face was obscured by a rather large box. The box was obscured by a rather large department store bag. I had been on the phone to my Dad when I answered the door. I began repeating: What the hell did you do? What the HELL did you do? Dad was confused. There’s a large box in my hall-way, gotta go, I said. I had also been thinking aloud about getting an Xbox for the flat, and I was nervous all night that Sarge had spent too much money on me. But that didn’t keep me from peeking into the bag all night. At a frustratingly wrapped box.
The next day, before he made coffee, Sarge suggested I open my present. Oh, really? I think I will. I did, and five minutes later (more like fifteen, making coffee is an event) we were having lattes from my new shiny, red, and really quite beautiful De’ Longhi Espresso machine. I’m not into having things. But this was a pretty cool thing to have. Best coffee ever. But then, I was already in a pretty great mood, spending my first birthday with Sarge.
I called my 29th birthday The Year of the Household Goods, because I received a rather nice teapot from a friend who’d heard that Sarge was trying to convert me into a tea drinker.
I don’t think I’ve had tea since my birthday.
And I think it’s time for another coffee. The one sitting next to me on my desk should be just about ready to drink.