But I didn't realize just how bad it was until this morning, when Husband and I were on our way to work. I had a big travel mug of coffee, my usual, but I sipped it slowly, trying to ration it for when I got to the office.
We took our usual bus into town, and I kept almost nodding off in my seat. That's really nothing new for me, although this morning I narrowly avoided slumping to the side and bumping into the Ron Swanson lookalike on my right (seriously, unless it was an insomniac hallucination, this guy was a dead ringer for Nick Offerman in Parks and Recreation. I resisted the urge to conversationally bring up meat or taxes.)
Husband and I changed buses downtown to get to campus, where we both work. We shuffled onto the bus and claimed side-by-side seats, and I pinned my coffee travel mug between my knees as we made conversation.
I don't remember dozing off at all. I just remember Husband making a panicked exclamation as a loud "CRACK" resounded between my feet. I snatched up the mostly-full mug and immediately realized the dire nature of the situation. The mug had slipped from my knees and cracked, and the coffee I'd been rationing for when I got to work was quickly leaking onto my jeans and shoes.
We had no tools to save the day - no paper towels, napkins, etc. - and we were blocks away from our stop on a crowded bus. In that instant, I did the only thing I could think of. I opened the lid, upended the mug, and started chugging.
"I don't think that's going to work..." Doubting Husband said slowly. However, as I gulped the liquid away from the fault line at the bottom of the mug, it seemed to fix the problem! The mug had stopped actively leaking, at least.
Then Husband started laughing.
Naturally, I snorted in response to his laughter. Did you know that snorting and swallowing cannot occur simultaneously?
(There's a Charlie Sheen joke in there somewhere, but I'll take the high road on this one.)
The snort caused a small rift in the space-time continuum, in which my esophagus filled with air and my windpipe with coffee. I choked and sputtered, getting coffee all over my face in the process, and barely managing to NOT spit coffee all over the unsuspecting passenger in front of me.
I righted the mug, which immediately resumed dripping on my legs and hands, as if to say, "Ha-HA! You thought I could be contained that easily, mortal fool? BEAR MY WRATH!!"
Husband, for his part, tried very hard to stop laughing. I guess that's difficult when your spouse is covered in coffee and making moose noises. "Sorry," he gasped, "can I help?"
I shoved the doomed vessel at him. "Keep drinking!"
While Husband finished the coffee, a kind person across the aisle realized our predicament and passed us a plastic shopping bag to put the mug in. I sat there, feeling quite foolish, as the coffee soaked in through my pores. My drowsiness had ironically caused this whole mess -- if I had not conserved my coffee, I would have stayed awake and not ended up covered in the very same beverage.
And I STILL didn't have any coffee left when I got to work! Cruel fate! I feel a bit like Macbeth or Oedipus, trying to outsmart foreseen consequences, only to cause them through caffeinated hubris.
So I'm going wrap up this post now and trot down to Starbucks with what remains of my lunch break.