I've had an on again, off again relationship with coffee for so long now that I don't even really remember just when or how it all started. I do know that our friendship/relationship (if that's what you want to call it) had somewhat of a rocky start, sometimes I was in the mood...other times...yeah, not so much. As the years passed coffee and I became more than just friends, it turned into love, real love, thus began, this beautiful, crazy, weird, needy, obsessed relationship with coffee. I know that I need help, seriously, I should probably see a counselor, have some therapy for my addiction to this sweet, delicious tasting concoction called coffee, really I should, after all I am married, I have three crumb crunchers and loads of responsibilities to do each and everyday. I am so addicted to coffee that my own children(the poor souls) know that it's best not to talk to mommy in the morning until she (that would be moi) has had a cup of coffee, you see, I have trained my children (the whole train up a child in the way he should go, bible lingo, is really being practiced here.) that no one has a meltdown, whines, yells, complains or fights until I have had a cup of coffee, all I really need is just one sip. Just the aroma that coffee gives is so uplifting. It makes me feel marvelous. One sip of this sweet perfection and I feel as though I have found a little piece of heaven here on earth. I feel all warm and toasty inside, it's erratic, maniacal, unbalanced, yes, I know all this, but do I care what others think of me and my affection,(addiction) to coffee...NO!, not really, I mean, I see myself spiraling out of control and I don't really care to fix it.
A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog. Proceeding Into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door. He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a ...
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