Mapping a Routine

Bitches Brew

Every morning I awake to the need to feed the java monster that resides inside me. I’m not much of a morning person; therefore, I require a lot of caffeine to get my self close to functionally awake. I am very grumpy as I get up around 6:20 am—though my alarm is set for 9:00am—because my aging, senile old cat is bitching at me for some food. “Myeh! Myeh! Mraaah!” he snaps at me in a cranky tone. “Wow! It’s only 6:20, Sobaka! What the hell is so wrong that you have to go off like an alarm three hours before my alarm goes off?” I yell back at his Majesty. Does my cat understand the morning needs of human beings like answering the bathroom’s morning call, or making coffee? No, not really, nor does he care. And in his hungry little world, surely my needs can wait. I begin getting frustrated with him before I can even flush.

It’s 6:21, and my cat and I are having our usual morning bitch fest (he’s just too old for it to be cute-talk anymore). “Dammit cat! Will shut the hell up, already,” I snap at him, but to no avail. His English is failing him in his old age, and he just continues to howl for his food the entire time I’m opening his can, stopping only to start eating before I can even get the food totally out of the can. By 6:22, he’s eating and I’m getting my coffee started.

First, I pull the lid off of the coffee grinder and open up the container of beans only to discover that I’m almost out of coffee. “Crap! I forgot that I needed more beans. I hope there’s still some crappy coffee up in the cupboard.” To my delight, there is. I rinse and refill the urn to make sure I pour in the correct amount of water or the dumb thing doesn’t work right. I put the lid back on and place the urn back in its cranny. I grind up what beans there are and pour them into the filter, and then I add some of the crappy coffee just to make a whole pot.

I look down and notice that Sobaka hasn’t eaten all of his food, once again. “What a freakin’ brat cat. He yells at me until I wake up and feed him just so he can eat half of what I give him. What a BRAT!” It’s 6:24 and the coffee is brewing. I’m bitching to myself, now, about all the other crap that ticks me off anymore like the stress of having my dad staying in my spare room for almost a year rent free. “I wish I had someone to let me live somewhere rent free, that would be nice,” I bitch under my breath.

I go into the living room and turn on the morning news. Thinking to myself, “I wonder what meth-head has stolen what metal or wire somewhere, today? Oooh! I wouldn’t want to be heading South on I-205 right now. That back looks nasty! What else is on? Hmmm…great more shit about Iraq…those poor soldiers shouldn’t have to be there…OPB always has weird stuff on…ouch my neck feels tight…more world news blah, blah, blah…ah, good, the local news.”

*Beep, beep, beep*

“Yea! My coffee is ready! I really need some right now.” It’s 6:37am and I have to make sure that my coffee maker made a whole pot of coffee. That’s another thing that’s been ticking me off. My coffee maker has decided to make only partial pots of coffee, usually when I over fill the water beyond the “10” line, but not always. “Crap! I wish that I could figure out what’s wrong with this thing…stupid coffee maker…dummy old cat…yeah, you’re fat and happy, what do you care how much money I’ve gotta spend on the food you waste.”

*Beep, beep, beep*

“It’s 6:44, and I hope the coffee fully brewed this time…YEA!...I think part of the problem with the coffee maker is that I often forget to dry out some the parts…hmmm… which mug do I feel like using, today?...I think I could use some magic in my world…hello, Mickey…mmmmm, coffee…oooooh, that’s the stuff…today is starting to look like a good day after all.”