This afternoon two coworkers asked if I wanted ice cream. I mean, do you even need to ask? Before we went to the break room Donna was picking cat hair off my shirt and Annette asked if I had my shirt on inside out. I said no, it was just some cat hair. Annette pointed out the buttons and Donna put her finger on the seam between the torso and the sleeve and sure 'nuf the shirt was on inside out. But oh well; let's get ice cream.
So, I got home and decided that I want coffee. Two days ago I made the mistake of calculating how much money I spend by going to the corporate coffee shop every day, so I proceeded to make my own coffee. I ground the beans for 15 seconds and poured the grinds into the reservoir. Something seems slightly amiss, like in the back of my mind, but not enough to pay attention to. Then I got the coffee cup, filled it with cold water from the refrigerator because I read that using cold water makes better coffee. I poured the water into the Mr. Coffee coffee maker and saw sludge swimming around in it, then I noticed the coffee filter, which was still white. As in, there were no coffee grinds in it. I had put them into the reservoir and then poured the water right in on top of them and presto I had cold sludge in a very difficult part of the machine to reach.
It's what I get for calculating how much I spend a month at corporate coffee houses.