Desperation

I needed coffee tonight.

What I don't have is time to go get any.

What I found in the deep, dark recesses of my "filing cabinet" (it's really like a deskside pantry) was a foil-wrapped single-serving coffee-in-a-teabag.

It's caffeinated, and I guess that's what counts, but that's about all I can say for it.

To smell it makes you think of the car repair shop that you spent a few hours hanging out in when you were a kid, when your parents' only car broke down and there was no way to go anywhere besides the repair shop, so there you sat, scuffing your shoes on the floor, asking your mom a million ridiculous questions and never knowing that that smell would, in some fragment, haunt your olfactory senses the rest of your life.

It's the scent of really bad coffee mingled with motor oil, stale tobacco, body odor and (you didn't know it then) a little bit of Jack Daniel's.

What this coffee tonight is really missing is the Jack Daniel's. (Sorry, but if we're not BFFs on Facebook, you won't fully understand that one - Jutin T. and I had a wall conversation about this very topic this week.)

On a side note, I swear someone just drove their leafblower past our office. It had that shallow, revving sound of too much gas pedal and not enough horse power. Poor car.