No room for coffee

I feel really bad for you. You see this is the second time I’ve written this entry. The first version was a real hoot… and I guess it still is, safely tucked away on my computer at work. I jotted down a rough draft on break, then proceeded to get busy as all get out… prompting it to get forgotten. I’m slated to be away from my office until next week, and I hate to let you go that long without such a primo topic; so I’ve decided to rehash it here.

Pulling up the site I’ll bet you were completely unaware that such good fortune awaited you.

We now rejoin our irregularly scheduled entry…

You know that I have strong feelings about the proper role of the cell phone in a public restroom. You know this because I’ve used this space to tell you, on more than one occasion. I mention this because I was similarly struck dumb by a throne room encounter earlier today. I was soaping up after a successful bathroom break when I noticed a steaming cup o’ joe sitting on the counter. Answer me this dear reader: how could anyone ‘dis a perfectly good cup of coffee like that? Further, who needs their coffee so bad they need to nurse their warm mug the 90 seconds it takes to commute to the satellite office? I’ve been known to obsess over coffee a wee bit, but I’m not so bad off I need to take it EVERYWHERE I go.

Naturally I bit my tongue, held my comments, and saved my say for the safe confines of my personal web site… just like the coward that I am.

Give the gift of words.