It’s so hard to write this. A good friend of mine died last night and I didn’t even realize it until today. We hadn’t known each other long – only since December – but the time we spent together was special. She suffered a traumatic break from a simple fall on concrete, and that was enough. Everyone thought she was fine, but I wondered at the time if it was worse than it appeared. Turns out I was right. Sometimes it sucks to be right.
I know I experienced every stage of grief – from simple denial (No, she really couldn’t have fallen that badly!) to anger, to bargaining (Please, just bring her back!), to depression. Writing this is my catharsis. My attempt to bring some closure, to find some way of accepting the fact that she is gone.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part of it all? It was my fault. I was holding her. I had too much to carry, and I dropped her. And when I heard her plastic hit the driveway, I knew that I would indeed be lucky if she survived. But alas, my travel coffee mug died.
I didn’t find out how serious it was until this morning at work when I filled her up with coffee, and the seepage began. Her cheerful little snowmen all turned beige, and the brown spread alarmingly fast around the entire design. When I looked closely, I saw the crack inside and the chipped plastic outside. I thought it would be okay, that maybe she could live with me as a damaged but usable travel mug, hobbling along beside me, but no, when I went for the last sip, I found that she was retaining fluid. There was no hope. Ceremoniously, at lunch, I said goodbye and gently laid her to rest in the trash can.
Then a thought occurred to me – why, that cannot be the only travel coffee mug in the world! I could buy one on my way home! I can find a replacement.
But is anything ever that easy? No, no, of course not.
First, I tried Target, but all the mugs were overpriced and unattractive. I even stopped at Starbucks, but I did not care for the design of the mugs or the bizarre method of accessing the coffee once it was consigned to its traveling prison. Then, I realized I had no options left. I had to face the land of the damned. I had to go where I had forsworn ever going again. I went to Kohl’s.
Now, for some people, Kohl’s is a mecca, a shopping paradise. For me, Kohl’s is a labyrinthian enigma. I do not understand the constant state of sale. The 40% off of almost everything nearly all of the time? Why not simply price the merchandise at the actual sales price? Why make it into a guessing game? Are people really that gullible that they believe that the merchandise is really worth the sticker price? I weep for humanity.
However, the compelling piece of information I had was that my mug, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect mug, had come from Kohl’s. Therefore, into the soul’s abyss I ventured.
Alack! They had but one – one! – remaining travel mug, and it, too, was cracked. And even if it hadn’t been cracked, it was but a stubby, squat substitute for my tall, slender, curvaceous friend. Despair wrenched my heart as I wandered the aisles, searching in vain for the mugs I knew must be there. But no, there would be no new travel mug for me today.
So, I end today in mourning for my morning companion. She was true, she kept my coffee hot, and she had the cutest little way of closing her lid to keep from spilling.
Goodbye, dear friend! I will miss you!