Maybe it’s because I’m a writer; maybe it’s because I get terribly distracted; it might even be a curse. Who knows, but I always seem to have the proverbial cup of cold coffee or tea sitting around somewhere. Some lonely cup half empty, a ring of brown maring the white surface.
I’m forever heating half drunk cups of some liquid in the microwave, only to have to reheat them ten minutes later. There is this joke in my house about the liquid not being coffee or tea after I’ve radiated it five times. And I’m notorious for having more than one cup of something sitting on a table. As if because I’ve had to wait for one thing to heat or reheat, I need to make something else. Or halfway through making a cup of tea, coffee suddenly sounds better.
Then I will have a full cup of tea steeping for 3 hours while having that coffee. Fortunately I don’t mind tea that has steeped that long, but at times it does seem silly.
I seriously think it is because when I write, I get so caught up in what I am writing, I forget that there is this luscious cup of something hot waiting for me. Oh, not always will it be cold when I get to it, but frequently it is lukewarm. And lukewarm just is bad. I’ll drink cold coffee, or cold tea, but lukewarm is just nasty. Have it either one extreme or the other. Not in between.
I’ve seen pictures of writer’s homes where there are cups floating around the place. I’ve read about it, watched it on movies… Apparently it is something that comes with the territory. My family is forever complaining about the excess amounts of cups.
I’m fortunate that my sister follows behind me washing the cups, otherwise I might run out. And gasp! have to wash one myself. Oh, and another downside to the cups laying around. The perpetual brown stain that has to be cloroxed out.
Oh well. I don’t know when or if this will ever stop, but for now, I’m probably cursed with having to reheat something.