Boss-sauce 6:07am
Fig flashed a pair of elderly women, and then vomited into his own shoe last night. It was all caught on film, get here early. XX
What an eye full to start off the day! It's only 7am, yet it is sure to be a memorable one. Ah, the multiplying joys of the marketing world.
The frat-boy football player turned actor had been a thorn in my side these last months, but this took the cake! Who knows how I'd get him out of it this time, the wicked little weasel.
I throw my phone aside and it promptly starts ringing, I don't need to look to know it's my boss. "Charlotte, my mind won't go... need the joe." Let a gal yawn a few times first, you know? I wave my ringing phone off as I flee the room, giggling like a kid. I am not human this early.
I've tuned the sink on to refill the kettle, staring past the plants on my windowsill at the birds beyond, when I realize my sink is half full! Get. It. Together. Coffee needs to happen now!
It's already 7:30 suddenly, and I really need to get to the office by a quarter after 8 if I'm to clean up Fig's mess before it gains legs. Now, where the heck is my coffee grinder?
I'm pacing in circles like I've lost my mind, but in all fairness appliances tend not to just walk off on their own. That's when I spot the note placed inconspicuously under a fridge magnet.
Lee,
I'm sorry dear, but I broke your kitchen doohickey. Accidently bought whole beans at the store, so though I'd borrow your coffee bean crusher. The darn thing jammed! I'll bring a replacement by tomorrow afternoon.
xoxox Mum
What a terrible way to find out your mother doesn't love you after all. I'm happy she found use of my key while I was at work yesterday apparently, but... Afternoon momma?! There are no words. Alright, well, something has to be open this early!
My phone seems to be the bane of my existence today, nothing but bad news. There is not a single shop within a reasonable drive that is open this early. Unreal.
Channeling the sacred knowledge of generations of crafty women, I find the next best thing.
I wrap my Arabica beans in two layers of plastic, and hold my weapon poised over them. They look at me hopefully from the counter, coffee loves us and wants to be brewed! As I gather my strength, the kettle boils, and I take my first whack!
The terracotta pot does me proud, worrying me with the initial blows, yet holding firm. Thankfully no plants were harmed in the making of this glorious morning!
As the beans crumble into smaller shards, I set my lovely helper back in its place among the others. Time to switch tactics. I find a bowl and a spatula with a nice broad handle. It's basically a mortar and pestle, right? About a minute in I can see it is working!
Lovingly, I place my hand ground beans into the French press, relieved to know sanity would arrive soon! With victory in hand I notice it's 7:45 now, crud. The office is 20 minutes away, so I'd better fly.
I learned this routine in college fortunately. In 8 minutes flat I have my hair in a passible bun, a simple A line black dress over sensible heels. Just in time to push the lid of the press down, the rich and bold brew beckoning me forward with its sweet aroma.
As I jet out the door with my travel mug in hand, I can't help but to be proud that I have 5 minutes to spare. Whatever bizarre nonsense Fig made me deal with today, I was ready. Don't worry Charlotte, the coffee crusher is on her way!
This is my barely-made-it-in-time entry for the weekly #spillthebeans prompt hosted by Cinnamon Cup Coffee community! 😁