The Best Part Of Waking Up

The five most terrifying seconds of my day usually take place somewhere between 7-7:30AM. They supervene right after I finish my morning routine at work, settle myself in, and then stare at my mug of coffee with a look only matched by Rocky as he walked into the ring against Apollo Creed.

These five seconds are spent with the mug fearfully leaning, ever so slightly, up to my lips, waiting (oh the suspense!) for that coffee to touch the tip of my tongue. At this point, my hand, with the cautious motor governance of a cardiac surgeon, ever so slightly tips the cup higher and higher. With slight intakes of breath, I attempt to coax out the violently hot beverage - only needing a dollop to suffice. Any less would be a mist, and any more would be a mini pool of lava that would leave my taste buds incapacitated for a painfully long time. The window of accuracy is comparable to satellite re-entry patterns.

This morning, per usual, after a rediculous amount of tipping and not sipping, I grew impatient. Oh, the tribulations of the foolish and hasty! With my heart already palpitating in suspense, it was jacked into 'heart attack' mode when the fiery sea of Colombian bean rinds splashed onto my woefully dejected tongue. "Gjaahh!" was my reaction, untimely delayed by the necessity to swallow first.

Well, that was that. The Band-Aid was pulled, and my terror level now dropped back down to normal shades of green (or whatever the safe color is). I would argue that the coffee, itself, offers no invigorating properties, but stimulates enough via the anticipation of searing pain.

Now comes the time to ritualistically curse the Mr. Coffee hot plate settings, my impatience, and the surprisingly efficient thermal retention properties of my mug until the first customer arrives.