Tales of a Part-Time Coffee Addict, Part Four

Today was hard. I almost fell through the door after a long shift at work and instead stumbled to my armchair in the corner of the small living area. My roommate was home–a rare event. I heard her music blasting in the bathroom as she took a shower. I dozed off waiting for her to get out of the bathroom.

“Hey,” she said, standing before me with a mug of tea in one hand and a jacket in her other. “I’m heading out. I’ll be back late, so keep the door unlocked.”

In an attempt to convince her that I was listening, I nodded and mumbled, “Sure.” She gave me a skeptical look but left without another word. I had plans tonight as well, but I wasn’t going to make them with how tired I was. Maybe I should text someone to let them know?

Instead of doing the polite thing, I stood up with great effort and made myself a pot of coffee. A light French Vanilla blend didn’t need creme or anything. Well, maybe one spoonful of sugar. Or honey? Honey it was.

I spent the next several hours on my XBox, alternating between Netflix and a few of my adventure games. Usually, I chose one and went the whole night on it, but my attention span was all over the place. My roommate came back around one in the morning, and I was still awake, a mug of coffee by my side, playing one of the games I’d settled into.

She laughed at me and went into the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. I shouldn’t have been awake, but I was. And because of all the coffee I drank, forgetting and scoffing at decaf, I wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

My roommate came back out. She made herself a pot of decaf coffee and laughed at my forgetfulness when I told her that I’d made caffeinated coffee for myself.

“Eventually,” she said sitting beside me on the floor, “you’re going to need to find someone who will be aware enough and around enough to remind you to eat and clean up after yourself.”

I laughed back at her because the idea was that with age, I would be able to do that on my own, but she and I were similar enough in that regard that it was unlikely to happen soon. It was then I realized I’d never eaten dinner. And I’d missed lunch because it was busy at work. And I didn’t eat breakfast because I was notorious for waking up late and running out the door with minimal care.

I hadn’t eaten all day, just drank and drank and drank coffee coffee coffee. That wasn’t okay. I paused my game to make myself a sandwich or some pasta, but my roommate had already started her own late night snack. She gave me a reproachful look that said she was disappointed that I’d forgotten–again–but she’d make me some dinner while she was making something for herself.

I really lucked out on this roommate.

fiction prose

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: