Out for Coffee

Coffee houses have been places of gathering for centuries.  Partly to get coffee, partly to engage minds.  It's still that way, though in a very different form.  Melitta cones, k-cup brewers, French presses are all durable equipment, with disposable filters and the ground coffee enabling anybody at home to get a decent cup, maybe a second or a third, at a fraction of what Starbucks or equivalent will charge for a marginally better tasting brew.  Unlike 18th Century Europe, or even the current Publik Houses of the British Isles, or even the NYC automats, people at American coffee houses don't really mingle randomly.  Sometimes we come with another person or two for a targeted conversation or to conduct business on neutral turf.  More often these days it's just me and my laptop with the fee for the beverage more a brief rental of space to sometimes connect with individuals or institutions located far from the site, sometimes to do work away from the distractions of the home base.

After some not very effective attempts to tell a story of squandered congregational standards left over from a few months back, I took my fully charged laptop to Brew HaHa, paid the $3 for a mid-sized dark roast, which I spiced with a splash of cinnamon and cardamom, left unsweetened, then placed the device and me at a quiet counter where my front line of sight only had a choice of the screen or an undecorated wall.  And I typed and I sipped.  All background to the story.  Never got to the main point that I want to tell, though I will eventually get there.  And once I do, I will need to edit out the background.  That took half a paper cup of coffee.  Closed the laptop, returned to the car, went home, let the story languish the rest of the day.  Left the coffee to chill in the car's cupholder until late afternoon.  Finished it.

Finish the story today, or at least its unedited draft.