I have finally reached rock bottom. My espresso machine broke and I am forced to drink Drip coffee. I can not function without my first cappuccino of the morning, I live and breath to arise to that foamy steamed milk laced with the most vile Peruvian coffee that Juan Valdez would never let his mule sniff. This gets me more excited than my puppy ripping through his cows ear covered with Jack Daniel’s barbeque sauce.
I love my cappuccino almost as much as I love my dog and without my morning ritual I become as bitter as the taste of my cup of Joe. I hate the fact that due to the physicality affect my cappuccino holds on me, I have been forced to dole out a few bucks at the local Espresso stand. I don’t know which is worse, the lousy drip institutional tasting coffee or forking over hard earned dollars for overpriced fancy hot drinks.
I think it all boils down to my being angry at my trustworthy machine for losing it’s parts. I have had this machine for ten years and it had proven to be as faithful as my dog. I find I can not write without caffeine, oh I tried those Teen enhancer’s like Monster and AMP, they tasted like diluted cough medicine with an Alka-Seltzer chaser. Plus I don’t like having to belch after every sip. Some beverages are designed for youth under 25 years of age. If I want bubbles bursting in my nose it better be bottled by the French and have the phrase Cuvee Paradis written on the label.
However, this is not a morning eye opener , well maybe for some people who may use it as an additive in their OJ; but for me I love my capuccino. The aroma, the taste, the rush of that addictive mocha mud jump starting my circulatory system. The only sensation that can mimic that excitement is my Puppy pouncing on me at six a.m. The only missing link is the lack of a fresh brewed smell in his fur, maybe I’ll have to invest in espresso shampoo.
I have to say my doggie is getting calmer and behaving better and I am sure that is due to his budding maturity or my starting to calm down and not hyperventilate every time I take him out. maybe it’s the recent lack of adequate caffeine. When Charly and I head out on an expedition I completely transpose my body in to a KamaSutra state of mind and try to stay in that state until we return to our natural habitat. The House.
I think I am spending too many hours watching the Dog Whisperer, but I do like his incredible lightness of being around his pack. I don’t have a pack. I have a back pack. Maybe I could stuff Charly in there while we take walks around the neighborhood. I wish I could attribute my new found serenity to watching Master Milan and his Miracle Mutts, but my disposition is more of a null and void space and a zombie like appearance. I get up in the morning wearing whatever fell out of my drawer from the night before and shuffle down the hallway with one eye open toward my sleeping Dog for his morning walk. I try to get out there either before the rush hour of commuters or just after, so no one should bear witness to my clown like attire and report me to the home owners association as a possible asylum escapee.
My morning walks with my pup have been very sedate lately because my body is moving slowly to the rhythm of “absence of stimuli”. My capuccino machine broke and I can not function without it, it completes me. It gets my body parts to operate as they are designed to unlike my machine which can’t operate if a part breaks down and you have to wait three to four weeks for delivery. AND when the part finally arrives the Fed Ex driver won’t come to the house because of the barking Chaniel pup, so he leaves it by the mailbox; which then got picked up and ferried by another dog in the hood to some sacred burial spot.
I’m telling you this is gunna be rrr-ruff……….I’m falling apart.
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