Morning Coffee
The other morning I broke our coffee pot. I'd put it in the refrigerator the day before because I had several cups of perfectly good coffee left over from the morning brew which I didn't want to waste. When I pulled the cold pot out of the fridge, I nicked the door and the glass just came apart, glass and coffee everywhere.
While I wait for a new pot to be delivered I have to go up to an old hotel at the end of the street and get my morning coffee. The bums come early and sit around on the metal tables outside, sipping a cup of coffee, waiting, presumably, for their first free meal of the day. You can always tell the bums by the trash bags they tie over the seats of their ghetto bikes. That way when they're caught in the rain, the seat doesn't get wet. Bums have a pretty good life here in St. Augustine because there are so many charitable organizations willing to feed and clothe them -- they can save all their money for booze and drugs.
In the past I've resented these bums and wished they'd go away, but lately, with my new high-pressure job, I've come to feel a kinship with them. I look at them now and think that if worse comes to worst, it won't be such a bad life. I'll drop out and flop my way down to bumhood, where I can sit outside the cafes, drink a cup of coffee, and look forward to the day's first bottle. Maybe I should start making friends now, so I'll know the ropes when it comes time.
While I wait for a new pot to be delivered I have to go up to an old hotel at the end of the street and get my morning coffee. The bums come early and sit around on the metal tables outside, sipping a cup of coffee, waiting, presumably, for their first free meal of the day. You can always tell the bums by the trash bags they tie over the seats of their ghetto bikes. That way when they're caught in the rain, the seat doesn't get wet. Bums have a pretty good life here in St. Augustine because there are so many charitable organizations willing to feed and clothe them -- they can save all their money for booze and drugs.
In the past I've resented these bums and wished they'd go away, but lately, with my new high-pressure job, I've come to feel a kinship with them. I look at them now and think that if worse comes to worst, it won't be such a bad life. I'll drop out and flop my way down to bumhood, where I can sit outside the cafes, drink a cup of coffee, and look forward to the day's first bottle. Maybe I should start making friends now, so I'll know the ropes when it comes time.