Don't you hate when authors use that afterthought? 'It's not what you think'. As in, my writing is not compelling enough to hook you in to my ideas, no matter how unoriginal, but here's an idea that will mask that fact!
But seriously, I've got the stomach flu and it blows. I am currently in my 50th-plus hour of the sickness, holed up on Tim's couch with a bevvy of delights in front of me- Ritz crackers, Gatorade, Ramen (just the broth, not the noodles) and Sprite- and I do not feel well. Though the un-eating has subsided, the eating itself has not yet begun, either. So here I sit, in stomach-pain purgatory, wishing the little demons in my abdomen would stop it with the cheese graters, already.
I am trying to embrace this experience as much as possible. After all, at no other time in my life do I get to spend so much time on the couch, glued to the TV, with my parent's encouragement. Plus, my GI tract does not negotiate with terrorists. So I can get mad, or I can get cozy and ride this bitch out.
I spent the whole day on my parent's couch yesterday, watching the "Law and Order Co-Ed Killers Marathon" (I'll just let you contemplate that one for a moment....) and catching the semi-finals of the Women's College World Series. Now, I am not a particularly big baseball or softball fan. In fact, when it comes to televised sports, baseball ranks about as low as golf on excitement. But, I do like almost all sports competitions. And you can bet if I am going to be sequestered to the couch, I will watch a hard ball game on TV. And it's going to be softball. And it's going to involve the Lady Cats. Why? Because they're awesome.
But I am not going to discuss them now. The Lady Cats deserve far more attention and far less Ritz crumbs than I am able to provide in my current state. Plus, I am currently watching game one of the Championship series and finding it hard to simultaneously write and scream at them. However, I can discuss what has been overwhelmingly relevant in my life in the last 48 hours without much energy output because I have had quite a bit of time to sit on it (literally) and ponder.
And that is this: The unique quandary of the stomach-flu stricken coffee drinker.
Essential to this problem are the intersectional elements that combine to create quite the conundrum. That is,
The stomach ailment: the source of extreme abdominal discomfort that constuitively creates a siuation where food or liquid must be very bland (or not comsumed at all) and activity is restricted to wretching over a bucket or sprawling on the couch.
The composition of the desired consumable: Delicious. Acidic. Not mass produced**. Umm... Dark. The first three are key, but all four seem to discount coffee from the acceptable digestibles.
The physical, spiritual and emotional effects of ingesting said consumable: Better circulation. Euphoria. Relaxation. A sense of Rocky Balboa-style I-can-take-on-anything-barefisted-ness.
The physical, spiritual and emotional effects of NOT ingesting said consumable: Headache. Sweats. A sense of damnation. Despair. Muderous impulses. AND
Lack of suitable substitutes to get through these conditions per the criteria above.
Or, the cliff's notes version: coffee is both a routine and blissful part of my day. Un/fortunately, it is habit forming and has physical consequences when not ingested. Call it an addiction, I call it necessary. And in the case of the stomach flu, not having coffee makes me contemplate ending it all, because by its very nature, successful consumption relies on the stomach to be in fairly good working condition. My stomach is sitting on the couch in briefs living off workman's comp.
A love for coffee is a beautiful thing. Coffee is a divine beverage. It's composition builds character. It is right up there with the nectar of the gods, the juice of the jehovah, the fountain of life. It takes the drinker to heights undiscovered and elevates to a state of nirvana.
Or it makes you want to die, if your stomach is under the weather.
**There is an assumed level of coffee proficiency and standards in the criteria.
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