This morning I woke up hard. My ass had been thoroughly kicked. I wasn't really hung over. I was dazed and confused. The first thing on my mind was:
"Where is the coffee and do I have any left from yesterday?"
I had no "yesterday coffee". Damn. I will have to brew some. I turned on the TV while the coffee press did what coffee presses do.
While I waited, I decided the best way to turn off the after effects of too much alcohol was to spark up some doob to go with my morning brew. So I fired up some of my self made "Mutant Hash" and while the coffee released its magic into those freshly ground beans: in a few minutes I was baked and really Jonesing for that first cup.
"Morning Joe" of the newly formed, MS-NOW was all about the latest stupidity dreamed up by "Donald Von Head Up His Ass". A follow up of sorts , or maybe just a continuation of another stupidity of his regarding his Venezuela vendatta against President Maduro. I stopped paying attention a few days ago when I heard American troops invaded Maduro's country, killed 32 Cuban soldiers and kidnapped Maduro to face charges in the US justice system.
I was about to pay more attention again when I took my first sip of the coffee I had brewed only a few minutes previous. Any notion of whining and complaining about another stupid Trump moment I have no control over flew out the window once I swallowed that first sip.
It was a perfect cup of coffee. It was the cup of coffee my taste buds always yearn for, but are so often left disappointed. I brew decent coffee, but the perfect brew only comes around once a decade or so. Well, maybe 10-12 times a year, but shit, who cares anyway? My point has been made. I brewed a perfect cup of coffee this morning. Anything I encounter for the rest of the day will pale in comparison.
I came to loving coffee the hard way. My parents ran through many pots a day of the stuff. They would never allow me to drink it as a child; they were convinced that little boys needed no such artificial stimulations to add more crazy to their mad hatter ways. Both drank it black, which made it an easy choice for me to not complain. I detested black coffee then and still detest black coffee now. If God had meant for coffee to be consumed black, God would not have invented cows.
It wasn't until I began driving trucks over the road that I developed a taste for coffee. When go fast pills were unavailable or I was out of them, I began drinking coffee with a copious amount of cream and sugar. Eventually I became hooked. It was desperate measures while a truck driver that led me to coffee. It was the first perfect cup that sealed the deal. I have been pursuing that same cup ever since.
Brewing decent coffee is not hard. Brewing perfect coffee is being lucky. But brewing perfect coffee to go with an early morning bake is heaven.
Keep it 'tween the ditches. ................................
______________________
Once again the Google Gods and their offspring, YouTube somehow found the perfect tune to go along with that perdfect cup of coffee. Here is Little Stranger with their wake and bake song, "Coffee & a Joint". Enjoy.
3 comments:
Coffee should be hot as hell, black as pitch and bitter as marriage
Well, You are a Canadian, what do you know? But then both of my parents who were American Patriots of the first order liked it black. Now that I think about it, that might just explain ............ Uh, nevermind.
Norwegians just leave the pot on the stove and add grounds and water until there is no room left in the pot. Chewable. I've had to cut back on strength as it was making me dizzy.
Post a Comment