I'll Take Coffee Over Pride Any Day...

This morning and every morning that has passed since I grew up and tossed out my taste buds, has started the same. I yawn, stretch, pee and stumble to the kitchen. Where I mutter to myself about not having a maid, room service or children who are well trained as I try to measure out the exact amount of precious coffee beans to put in my beautiful stainless steel coffee maker so that I may turn back into a human being and join the world of humanity.

Without my java, the lifeblood of the god's, I'm a monster. A pathetic, snivelling little monster.

Yesterday morning started out the same as every morning before it. Bleary eyed, I made my way to the kitchen to caffeinate my blood. As I listened to the coffee percolate, I checked my email and smelled the wonderful scent of ambrosia slowly filling the glass pot. When the coffee was ready I jumped up to pour myself a cup, knowing that my day was only going to get better from the moment of my first sip of that mud colored liquid.

I poured my coffee into my favorite cup (because it doesn't taste the same if it's not in the right cup) and I reached for the sugar bowl. Empty. Not to panic. I have a big pantry. Surely there is sugar, whether it be white, brown or spilled on the floor in there.

Not a grain to be had. In my entire house. My darling (and when you read that please know I mean dumbass) children made gluttons of themselves when left unattended to make their breakfasts. Apparently Rice Krispies don't taste the same with out half a pound of sugar to smother the taste of the rice.

This leaves me in a quandary. How can I have my java without sugar? I am not one of those people who have completely developed into adulthood and abandoned their taste buds altogether. No, I need sugar to drink my high octane vitamin. Dammit!!! I need sugar!!!

I was left with three choices:

1. Suck it up buttercup, and just drink the vile poison without the sweet goodness of sugar to save the taste.

2. Call my mother and face her, knowing that I will hear about how stupid I am for the rest of my days.

3. Call my mother in law and face her, knowing that I will be admitting what a lousy mother and wife I am by running out of a simple necessity.

After careful consideration (and to those of you who wonder why I didn't just run to the store...I live in the sticks, it would have taken an hour to go get my sugar and by then my coffee would have been cold. Plus I'm not fit to drive without my caffeine jolt) I did what any coffee-loving desperado would do. I wandered over to my mother-in-laws, admitted my inadequacy and begged sugar in trade for my soul.

I walked away with just over three teaspoons (I'm not kidding, she carefully measured it out into a baggy) and no pride.

But dammit, I had my sugar.

****Later in the day I went to the grocery store and bought out the entire sugar stock. And lectured my children about the dangers of letting this household run out of sugar and not telling their mother. With mental images of blood stained walls and padded rooms running through my children's minds, hopefully this will never happen again.****