bad coffee malaise
Wednesday, July 16 2003
The morning coffee drinking ritual is an essential component in the quality of my life. Sometimes when I go to bed at night I look fondly forward to my morning activities: brewing a pot of coffee and sitting down to read about the night's casualties in Iraq - the drip-drip-drip of blood running out of our fascist regime.
I'm not a coffee snob by any definition. Eight O'clock brand coffee ($5 for an enormous two pound bag) is a perfectly adequate source of morning ambition. But I have become accustomed to the process of grinding it from beans, not that good coffee can't come pre-ground.
This past weekend, however, all my usual coffee was consumed by houseguests. They replaced it with a can of pre-ground Maxwell House. This stuff stands right on the threshold of undrinkable. As Gretchen points out, it doesn't even smell good when it's brewing. And I don't know what is up with its caffeine content, because the only effects I get from it are anxiety and jitters. This must be a Puritan's notion of a good coffee buzz, because it is devoid of the mild groundless euphoria I prefer.
I think it was Maxwell House overindulgence that led to a feeling of malaise throughout much of the day. I was walking in the woods with Sally and suddenly I started sweating profusely for no reason. Then I gradually became weak. By the time I got home, I wasn't good for much except lying around on the couch. The only productive way to spend this time was watching the DVD of Standing in the Shadows of Motown. The Motown sound isn't really my thing, but the story of the mostly unknown Funk Brothers, the tightly-cohesive backing musicians for the Motown hit machine, is fascinating nonetheless.
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