The coffee’s held hostage in its pot until I get something done. I must complete the task in order to earn the reward, so the coffees languishes, my silent incentive, just wanting to be poured into a mug already and quaffed. It’s getting impatient.
I would complete the task with more expedience/happiness if only I’d had the coffee, but I can’t until I’m done the task. It’s, yes, a Catch-22, or a Caff-22, or just plain old ridiculous since I’m the one imposing this rule. Still, I must abide or I’ll have let myself down.
My task? Writing these words.
The “Jesus Shaves” mug was sent to me as a gift from a friend who makes me laugh hard enough to make me almost pee my pants, a charming event that would be hastened by coffee quaffing (coffing?).
In the mug’s “ready” state, anticipating coffee, it depicts Jesus, looking like a long-lost BeeGee on the brink of harmonizing with his brothers. When hot liquid is added, he loses the sexy beard and several years and looks like a poetic-souled boy who’d pair bellbottoms with his tunic in my seventh grade class circa 1975 and earn several pages in my diary.