Do Not Go Outside
This is day three of not drinking coffee. And not by choice. Going coffee-less is because of forgetting to order it with our food delivery. Yesterday, out of desperation, I started to leave the apartment to get some at the local bodega but was stopped by my wife. She reminded me that our daughter, who at that moment was in her room with the door shut for distance learning, felt very strongly about us not going out of doors.
Insurmountable Addiction?
I didn’t want my daughter to not feel safe so I took off my shoes and returned to the home office to work. That is if I could keep myself conscious for any amount of time. Now it’s the next day. I get up at around 6:00am. It is currently 10:00pm EST. For four hours I was unable to engage in blogging. Four hours. I suppose I should be processing this as showing how addictive beans are, but I need them. Or so I think.
Those Born Post-1962 Need Not Read This
I ordered two containers of coffee from Amazon but they won’t be coming until Friday which is the day we order food that usually delivers the following day. That’s two days away because most likely the coffee package won’t get here until Friday night, and for that matter there is the very real possibility that it will get stolen. Our building has always been the wild west, but since the Coronavirus entered the picture, things have intensified. Our neighborhood is now the wild, wild west (yes, like the TV show that most of you probably won’t remember). Stay tuned. I feel like there should be a visual now of our building the melds into being a painted version. That’s an inside “Wild Wild West” joke you won’t get if you were born after the Cuban Missle Crisis