Grind and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged that with a great love for coffee comes a wide array of spills and stains. I've often said that if I ever have children I will not be able to get mad at them for spilling because I will be knocking things over just as much- if not more. 

"Dad! Can you get a towel? Mom spilled her coffee again." 

 If you went through my closet you would have a hard time find a single article that does not have a coffee smudge, stain, blurb, squiggle, splotch or dousing. However, please do not go through my closet because that is creepy...

 I really try though, I do. I try very hard not to spill. It's just that mugs are cooler that tumblers. I know I shouldn't bring the mug in the car but holding a warm mug is like a tiny hug. And when I do have to-go mugs they often spill...on their own... without any real help from me. Also, Starbucks mugs are as tricky as their mascot (which is a Siren, by the way... who are the most diabolical, twisted sluts is mythology...), I swear the mouth hole moves. One minute it's right in front of me, I go to take a sip and BAM! it's on the other side of the cup, drizzling new stains on my innocent, impressionable, untainted, new white shorts. 

I like to the think of it as personality art. 

I am a painting. Coffee stains provide a realism to my art that really can't be replicated. That abstract touch that really captures who I am in. 

It's beautiful, okay? 

So if you see me, and if you see the coffee stain that I guarantee is somewhere on my attire, don't point it out, just appreciate the work of art.