It's the Coffee's Fault

Every morning I get a large decaf coffee. I know, I know...why bother, what's the point of that, etc.

THIS is why.

When they accidentally give you the high octane stuff, you can blame EVERYTHING on the fact that you are innocently, I might add, drunk on warm caffeine goodness.

When I got in the car with C this morning, I suspected my coffee was fun in a cup with a cardboard coozie - just not the kind of fun C would purposely sign up for on a Tuesday. It was flavored, and my coffee place never has anything but tame, plain decaf. I gave it a sniff and said "oooh ooh, I think this is regular." And five seconds later I was pouring it down my throat while making excuses like "we are already late, might as well get to the office. No time to go get a decaf now."

Here are just a few of the superpowers my caffeine cape gives me:

1. The ability to hard transistion mid conversation from one obscure topic to the next - at 10 times the speed I normally do this. Thing is, I'm also talking in made up words and mispronounciations at 10 times my normal speed as well.

which usually leads to...

2. Super Pouting! I can go from laughing to lower lip protrusion in a matter of seconds.

3. I can and will reach a Danger Hungry state about an hour before C and I can actually go to lunch. This is especially fun for him because I run into his office and try to convince him to "Please let's go NOWWWWW I'm hungry, no I don't want the pretzles you thoughtfully brought for meeeee". Pout.

4. Sooper Logic. When C and I came back from lunch today, there was a HUGE spider swinging from the ceiling of the parking structure. Of course I got my camera out and started to try and take pictures. But I didn't want to get too close to it. And the thing is, why did I want/need pictures of the biggest, ugliest, scariest spider I've seen since the one that tried to cross a river to get me about a month ago? THERE WAS NO REASON. My brain just said "Oh, something horribly wrong? Take pictures!"

AND, when we got to the lower level where our office entrance is, I said "HEY, how come the ceiling on this floor is painted? I bet it's spider resistent paint. They don't care about us who park up there on the other floors. Apparently.

This statement actually made C drop his head and say "...it's hard to be me."

And I laughed, and then super pouted all the way back up to the office.