The following was written in the throes of the icepocalypse (#snowbama, #snowpocalypse, #winterblast2015—choose your favorite). We understand many of our brothers and sisters east and south of us are enduring similar circumstances. Godspeed.
It's been days since we've seen the sun. We haven't left the house since Sunday. But worst of all, and we mean WORST of all, we're out of coffee.
First, it was the K-Cups. We ran out one day in. Looking back, we realize there should have been a rationing system, maybe use one cup three times. Yes, it would weaken the coffee, but desperate times. We found an old can of Folgers in the back of the pantry (from before we knew better, of course). Not ideal, but these are Code Orange times we're living in. Unfortunately, there was only enough for one pot of drip coffee. "Surely we will be able to leave tomorrow," we thought, "to get the essentials."
But we were wrong, journal. We were so very wrong.
We can see glimpses of the outside world—Instagrams of coffee cups filled to the brim and coffee shops creaking open their doors, breaking off the icicles and turning the "Open" sign around. But our neighborhoods are ice rinks and our vehicles are rear-wheel drives.
We tried to make do with what we have left—hot chocolate packets from two Christmases ago, campaigning for K-cups on the street—but to no avail. In a moment of weakness, we even called Starbucks to see if we could convince them to deliver. They weren't open. This is truly the end of the world.
The future looks bleak from here, journal. As the tally marks we've been scratching on the wall grow in number, their taunting grows all the louder (and shakier, due to the caffeine withdrawals). Our heads are pounding. There are children playing in the streets. Again. Can we harvest their natural energy for caffeine? That sounds very wrong. We're not thinking straight.
When will we see latte art again? When will we again be able to ask for a frappuccino at Barista Parlor and receive a blank stare? To ask if The Well still has drip coffee even though it's 3:05 p.m.? We are willing to wait 30 minutes for a pourover or even an essential-oil/cacao powder peppermint mocha at this point.
For now, we wait. Well, Laura waits. Elizabeth has all the chai she needs, because she stocked up on chai concentrate like it was an ingredient for French Toast. This isn't her first rodeo/-pocalypse.
We'll keep you posted, journal. TTYL.
the Coffee Shoppers