Java Jive

("Java Jive" The Ink Spots, 1940)

When the four Kids were little, I didn't know what a morning cup of hot coffee was.  Milk to pour, toast to butter, syrup to spread, spills to wipe up, etc., etc., etc.  By the time I got to sit down my coffee was either lukewarm or cold.  I don't like cold coffee.  I am, in a way, back there again, gulping coffee in an attempt to drink it before it chills.  The bedroom is the Farview equivalent of the Arctic circle in the winter.  I don't mind at all when Ralph sits on my lap, as he does every morning, because he's warm.  There's not much he can do for my mug of java.  If I were smart and not such a creature of habit, I'd stand and drink hot coffee in the kitchen, but no, I'd rather sit at the computer and complain.  I'm down to the last few sips of almost-iced coffee.  Sigh.