Feeling utterly fabulous with a wicked case of bedhead and teeth tasting disturbingly of night time, I began my morning in what some might call a classic tragedy. You see, today marked another lovely morning of hopping behind the wheel without the radio, my sunglasses, or any trace of sanity prevalent. Clearly, I’ve figured out the hard way that systematizing my morning is a task easier in theory than in practice.
Around the same time every day (give or take a few minutes depending on how many rounds of snooze my alarm withstood), I roll up to my regular haunt: the oasis of adulting also known as my local coffee shop. There is a certain romance to the normality of my daily caffeine pilgrimage. Something about the routine tickles my temporarily-awake brain cells awake like a lovely symphony of Folgers jewelry jingle.
But today, folks… today was different.
For, today dear readers, I revolted. I gripped the steering wheel that’s seen the sunrise more times than it would have liked, embraced the rebellion and ordered, of all the scandalous things, a solitary small cup of coffee. Yes, indeed. Hold your shocked gasps, the unthinkable has happened. The “usual” (you know, the one that comes with the smell-of-the-heavens-vanilla-muffin) was discarded, and only the under-respected, under-appreciated, teetering-on-mundane small coffee, sans muffin, was requested.
The woman’s voice on the drive-thru speaker crackled with disbelief, “What, no muffin? No breakfast? Nothing?!” It’s as if I’d just slashed a critical beat out of the rhythm section of her morning symphony. Suddenly, I was not just a casual customer but a radical revolutionary ushering in a new era of streamlined orders, creating ripples of shock in the early morning.
I mean, here I am, thinking that ordering less would be my crowning achievement. An unforgettable contribution to speeding up the service process. Conversely, My dear, sweet drive-thru friend clearly considered my move a flagrant violation against our unwritten morning ordinance. As if my decision to eschew the glorious muffin was an affront to our long-standing, unnamed camaraderie.
You see, reducing my reliance on morning carbs is a monumental task that has required Herculean strength. The journey from ‘coffee plus muffin’ to just ‘coffee’ seems to be a battle of epic proportions. Today, for a fraction of a moment, the Universe revolved around the absence of my muffin at the drive-thru window.
As I pulled away, I can’t help but speculate how this shocking change in order would resonate in her day: the lady who had just served me my lonely small coffee. Would my lack of muffin define her morning? Would she tell everyone about the early morning rebel who seriously pissed off the breakfast gods by denying a muffin’s rightful place in a balanced breakfast order?
Well, dear reader, as you sip your own morning coffee, ponder my rebellion. Is it just the removal of pastry, or perhaps, a smaller step towards something profoundly larger? A simple act of defiance? Or maybe, a submission to the cold, hard reality that waistlines and pastries don’t always coincide harmoniously. Only time will tell. But as for me, tomorrow is another day, another small step, and Lord help me, possibly another muffin-less order.
Come at me, drive-thru lady. I’m ready.
Written By:
William Thomas
This isn’t rage—it’s truth with the volume turned up.
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