Have you ever had a day when you realised that there is not enough coffee in the world for you to manage it. Your temper is short, and so is time. Deadlines are poking you softly in the side and you know they’ll prod harder and harder as the day wears on.
One of those days.
With a fresh cup in front of me, black and strong and sweet, I glance around me and the walls stare back at me. There are faces on posters and close up images of people’s hands. Both make me frown a little. The art around here needs work.
The day wears on and the things that normally happen easily don’t happen at all. But things that don’t really matter happen easily. The irony of that is frustrating. In a haze of quiet productivity the day passes. The signs of frustration come from the offices around me and I know it’s not just me struggling. There’s a coffee run on the cards for all of us.
The day rolls on into evening and then it’s time to leave. Heading home the roads are jammed with people hoping to be there already. They aim for home with a determination in their eyes. I’m one of them. As the dinner cooks, I press go on the coffee machine one more time. I watch the liquid push through the pod and into my cup thick and strong and fragrant.
Tomorrow I’ll switch to decaf, I promise myself. Tomorrow I will make do without it. Tomorrow there won’t be as much to do. Tomorrow. Yes. Until then, I’ll just sit here and drink it down. Optimistic it can make everything ok.