The second Friday of the year began like any other. Frank came in to awaken me for the day and I grumbled in protest. Shoved in the direction of the bathroom, I showered and then headed for the kitchen table. You see, I’m one of those fortunate girls to have the kind of guy that movies are made about: the overly sweet, intelligent, handsome man who would do anything for his woman. That’s my Frank and I’m the lucky girl. This morning began like all of the other blessed mornings I have. My piping cup of Stumptown coffee was waiting for me, freshly poured into my favorite mug. My mug was purchased several years ago in a ghost town named Terlingua in Big Bend. It’s a beautiful, hand crafted mug with an image of two faces peering at each other. I love this mug! It’s huge, so without guilt it is filled to the brim and I miraculously consume the equivalent of three cups of coffee in one gigantic mug!
Well, like I said, this morning began like any other. I finally found my way to the couch, freshly showered and a cup of coffee was placed into my eager hands. I opened my book and began to read. The coffee this morning was especially delicious. I became lost in my morning routine and a newly acquired vampire teeny bopper novel. That is until I heard a crash and felt the piping hot liquid scalding my bare legs. I had become so caught up in my book that I missed the coffee table and my favorite cup, coffee and all went crashing to the floor. The granite floor I thought was so awesome when we moved in wasn’t forgiving at all. The last cup of coffee was all over the floor and my favorite cup-shattered. Grrr. . . .