it was a sunday morning or maybe saturday, but i remember three things. uncle sugar was looking quite chocolate-lovely on a leather chair with a bon appetit in his hands. i was standing in the kitchen hoping someone would make me something. and then he looked up.
those browns of his, when concerned, gut me every time. and at this moment, he looked very concerned.
kar? we're about to go through a very. bad. period.
every bit of liquid that sloshes through my body rushed to my toes and i thought i'd faint a little. so. this is it. this is how it happens. on a sunday morning or maybe saturday.
he continued, shaking his head in grave apology.
those beans i bought...they're terrible.
liquid back to sloshing as usual.
coffee beans. coffee. beans.
i almost just wrote we need bigger problems, but then i got scared about throwing that out to the universe. so forget that, mister. i will gladly take sub-par and somewhat bitter beans over trouble any day. did i say that loud enough? sigh.