I did not sleep well last night. In fact, at least in the way of sleep, I've been all over the place this week. After a bout of food poisoning over the weekend I think I slept about sixteen hours Sunday, then was pretty much asleep by nine o'clock Monday and Tuesday. Now I am sick with a cold, but not nearly as sick as poor Evan, who kept us both up much of last night coughing and sniffling and being generally miserable.
This morning, bleary-eyed but out the door by quarter past seven, I finished my book on the bus and was distracted by obsessing over which Nook book to read next and how to remove books I've read and so on and so forth. Almost missed my stop, jumped up and out the door and across the street and washed up against my corner coffee stand with two dollars in my hand and a tangle of words in my head.
And promptly ordered a large milk with sugar and one coffee.
He* looked confused. I was confused, and twisted myself in ever more tangled knots as I tried to correct my order. By then the cup was in the bag (I never take a bag) and I was too flustered to figure out what had actually ended up in the cup, or tell him I didn't need the bag.
Now, half an hour later, my overly sweet and milky coffee is beginning to kick in and I have been laughing over this with coworker Karen and hoping that tomorrow will go more smoothly.
*Not my regular coffee guy, but a very nice person covering while my regular coffee guy is away. My regular coffee guy knows how I like my coffee, and all would have been fine.