The Spilled Coffee.

22 August 2013.

Late nights are becoming a frequent phenomenon now. What with the submission date creeping closer by the day (or as I should say ‘night’). And to keep the sleepy eyes at bay, coffee stands guard. Making its presence felt, if need ever arise. In the frenzy of getting the word count to budge forward, I never noticed when a little elbow nudge pushed the coffee mug a little harder than expected. And before my flexes jumped into action, the liquid had spread itself across my neatly written-out notes. Wasting absolutely no time, the brown milky liquid definitely made its presence felt, albeit in quite an unnecessary way!

Shocked out of my wits, I rushed to save the drenched sheets but no amount of soaking up the moistness could avoid the stains from leaving their imprints behind. As I silently mourned at the damage, a grumpy conscience yelled from within: ‘Great! At least now you would listen to me…coffee is just not your cup of tea!’ Much as I appreciated my own joke, I had to accept it was the ultimate kind of climax to perhaps one of the worst days I’ve experienced in a long time.

You know those days when nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, goes your way. When you discover the main ingredient from the recipe is missing from your refrigerator and when that moment of panic sizzles into burnt food awaiting your palate. When you rush into town to keep an appointment only to realise the shop is shut down for some ‘unavoidable reasons’ and all that you can do now is enjoy the sun since obviously you’ve paid for the train ticket! And then you enter into a random argument with a neighbour when the fault is not even yours’. As if a magnet for bad moments, you feel something scurrying up your arm just while you are walking back home only to figure out a baby spider has decided to grant you a lifetime opportunity of becoming Spider-woman. Scratching away the itchiness, you enter into your room and the door slips out of reach. You leap, try to catch it before it bangs shut and realise you managed. Not to catch the door but to catch your finger in it. Swollen finger in hand and tears of frustration starting to brim, you switch on the laptop hoping to get ahead with your work. But a pure blank greets you there as well. Great, my mind seems to have declared a whimsical strike. And then the climax we started with; the spilled coffee.

Fuming and suddenly plain exhausted, I pick up the mug and stand it up on its rightful bottom. I peek in to see if any coffee actually managed to stay back in the mug and the sight that greets me, leaves me suddenly smiling. The coffee is all gone, but the sugar remains. Unstirred and adamant.

In a day that was obviously not mine, the sugar had stuck true. Sweetening my foul mood, bringing back the humour in the situation.

The only irony of the situation: I woke up this morning to find my brand new sugar packet completely vanished from the kitchen (and the whole house for that matter) and yet the day ends with such sweet realisation.

There’s no point crying over spilled ‘coffee’ when the unstirred sugar is your saving grace! 🙂



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