Oh Holy Heck

Will someone teach me how to drink coffee....from a travel mug? For roughly a year I have been a coffee addict. Before that I couldn't stand the stuff. My co-worker, Cathy, is 100% to blame for my new obsession. She is the ultimate coffee-lover. Never will you see her without her mug of java. Never. In fact, we call it her bah-bah. Don't ask me why. Just seemed to fit. Anywho, she has a very discerning pallet and only drinks the finest hazelnut blend. Our workplace kitchen is directly across from my office. Each and every day the glorious aroma fills my office and assaults my senses, begging me to indulge. And I do. I consume a minimum of 2 cups a day. The only up side is that I have been cured of my addiction to Diet Dr. Pepper. Well, I haven't been cured of my addiction...I merely replaced the object of my affection. No longer do I fixate on consuming a large, ice-cold bottle of chemicals. I now drool over a heavenly, steaming concoction of coffee and cream. A little healthier option if you ask me.

When I first began to indulge, I drank from the styrofoam cups provided at the office. That only lasted a short while. First of all, they are too darn small. Secondly, the lightweight properties of these cups have no thermal benefits resulting in cold coffee in a hurry. So I went in search of the perfect travel mug. Not only would I be able to enjoy piping hot coffee at my desk, I could now brew a pot before leaving home and enjoy a mug on my daily commute.

Enter the perfect travel mug. Perfect for everyone except a lame-ass like me. While it fit every one of my requirements...large, thermal and cheap...it fails miserably in a few critical areas. I suppose I should cut it some slack as it might actually be me that is failing.



Day one.

I awoke a bit early, eager to try out my new "toy". I quickly got ready for work, taking a little less time to apply my much-needed makeup. I even chose the no muss, no fuss pony-tail as I wanted plenty of time to prepare the perfect cup of coffee.

I meticulously measured out the grounds, filled the reservoir of the coffee maker with water and stood anxiously waiting for the pot to fill. Do you know how freakin' long it takes a damn Mr. Coffee to brew? Drip.........drip..........drip. Holy Mother of *****! I guess I'm used to the mac-daddy Bunn variety at work that fills a pot in mere seconds. Okay, so I might be exaggerating just a bit but it is certainly speedier than my version at home. And yes, the coffee maker is programmable and yes, it does have a Pause 'n Serve feature, but we are talking about me here. You know as well as I do I never think far enough ahead to have programmed the darn thing the night before nor do I think rationally enough to use the features that cost me a few extra bucks. Lesson learned. Eventually, the cycle was complete and I could fill my freshly washed travel mug. With cup in hand, I set out to start my day. I felt like such a grown-up!

Once situated behind the wheel of my car, I followed my morning ritual of situating my belongings. First order of business, neatly stash a handful of work papers in my tote oh so perfectly placed in the passenger's seat, followed by my purse and lunch. All that remained in my grasp was my Zone bar breakfast, a banana to chase the bar and my piping hot mug of joe. I proceded to place my lovely new mug in the cup holder in order to chow down on the chocolate zone bar. Nothing better than chocolate in the a.m. Well, color me frustrated! It didn't fit! Not to be derailed in my attempts to be a real-life-coffee-drinkin' commuter, I precariously perched it in the holder in a manner that was somewhat reassuring that it would survive the ride. Sure enough, it did. However...

I was now cutting it close to being on-time (something that happens all too frequently) so I practiced my mad driving skills. You know, the kind where you zoom in and out of traffic all the while praying like hell you don't get caught. I whipped into my parking space rather proud that I would walk through the door of my office just in the nick of time. I grabbed my tote, my purse and my lunch, trying to toss both my purse and my VERY large tote over my shoulder. In so doing, I slightly bumped the gingerly planted mug. It tipped sideways and I found myself sitting in a sea of coffee. Being new to the whole concept behind the idea of "travel" mug, I had not fully snapped the lid shut. In my defense, I had tightly sealed it before leaving home. But I had to live up to my new cool, grown-up ways. Just in case anyone happened to be looking as I darted in and out of early morning travelers, I continually took sip after sip from my mug. One hand on the wheel. The other clamped around the mug. All the while knowing the image I was projecting...busy, important professional. A little too caught up in looking like a big shot, I forgot to close the cap when I finally placed it back in its resting spot. Again, lesson learned.

Beyond Day One

Since that day, I have learned to program my Mr. Coffee. Fresh java awaits me each and every day. (Disclaimer: While I did learn how to program my coffe pot, I have to confess I no longer brew my own coffee. Leah is our resident coffee meister and maker. All I must do is "pour"!) I also never put the cup down in the car without being assured it is sealed. Yet one lesson remains to be learned. Do NOT. I repeat do NOT, ask me how I do this. We are talking about me...Lisa...the klutz of all time. It would be a waste of your valuable time to try to solve this mystery. Not a day goes by that I do not end up sporting that lovely hazelnut aroma by way of a few coffee stains. Yes, my friends, somehow...some way...I spill coffee on myself. Either I drool, I don't swallow fast enough, I tilt the mug too far????? Who the hell knows! It may even have something to do with the fact I was born before the invention of sippy cups. Isn't a travel mug nothing more than a grown-up version of a sippy cup? Actually, I like that excuse. Completely removes all burden of blame from my already overly burdened little shoulders. But when you consider the fact 2 year olds can master the skills required to drink from the toddler version...... *sigh*...... Let's just say it isn't a flattering picture of me either way you paint it.