My coffee has a skin again.
I keep my mug on an old coffeemaker masquerading as a hot plate because I like my coffee to remain highly warm while I sip it throughout my morning. And afternoon. And sometimes evening… depending on when I get up. Which is always a malleable enterprise for those with Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. I also have Coining Of Nomenclature Syndrome (C.O.N.S.), except this time I’m not guilty of it. DSPS really exists. Although when I first saw the abbreviation, I thought it stood for -Dating & Sex Postal Service –this is how I intend to find my next girlfriend. When you are at home as much as I am, that’s your only hope of seeing another human being. When she absolutely, positively, has to stay here overnight.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. Skin.
If my coffee cup stays on the hot plate too long, (as it should, since I am a serious writer who spends many hours slaving away at my clickety clacking)….then it inevitably gets a skin on it. Then I have to take a piece of coffee filter and dig the skin out before I refill.
If I were to visit a coffee shop and say “Give me a hazelnut with skin.”
They would say “Skim milk?”
“No,” I’d say. “Not SKIM. . ..SKIN.”
They would, rightfully so, put me in the crazy category. Been there before, so it wouldn’t be a stretch. I can do crazy very well, thank you.
I thought about trying to put something on top of that skin one time, to see how strong it was. . ..a paper clip, maybe. . ..wonder if it would sink, or ride there? Then I could drink, while staring at a buoyant paper clip. There would be no reason for this, other than my own twisted and absurd entertainment.
I refuse to let myself get bored.