This morning started like every other. Alexandra woke at 3am, which facilitated a mid-night bottle feed b/c she was coughing and wheezing like an 80-year old with emphysema. Due to this, we all got started a bit late. I rushed out the door, backpack, lunch, and extra bag of papers graded in tow, only to land at the doorstep of my coffee place to find it was....closed!
At this point my knees got weak, I almost withered into myself, and I stood there reading the signs and peering into the windows in total denial--hoping for some sign of life. Once I accepted that it was indeed closed, my brain went into race mode, scouting all the coffee spots I knew between my house and the doors to my school. Which could I get to the quickest (I was running a little late) who had the best coffee? Should I take the subway or bus to land myself at this new destination? My blood pressure was rising. I was getting frantic. Could I call the school and tell them I'd be late? (Yes, all for coffee).
You see, I teach 1st, 2nd, and 3rd period in a row, so if I don't get coffee before school I can't get it until 11am, which is WAY too late for this gal.
As you might guess, since I live in Park Slope and teach in Cobble Hill, there were a million and one places for an over-caffeinated white person like myself (that's my favorite line from the movie "Crash") to get her fix. It all ended up okay, but man, for a second there I thought I was going to have to go back home, crawl into bed, and wait for the apocalypse.
Caffeine anyone?
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if colson patiserie were a toddler i'd shake her till she cried while shouting "don't you ever scare me like that again!" not that i'd shake a toddler.
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