A cup of coffee

I headed over to the Farmer's Market around noon, but found nothing that I wanted, really, except maybe some heirloom tomatoes. Alas, I found the process of purchasing them too intimidating, so I stepped inside Kerrytown for a cup of coffee at Sweetwater's and maybe to read the paper.

I knew I was going to have a problem when the cashier wrote my order on the bottom of a paper cup. Sure enough, my cappuccino was served in that same cup, not a porcelain cup, as I prefer. I should have spoken up, but I was ... uh ... intimidated. Nonetheless, I tried to make do by preparing the drink the way I like it, with cinnamon and sugar, and proceeded to look for a place to sit.

The chair I had had my eye on when I came in was now in heavy use by a pudgy imp, chin slick with drool, fat cheeks covered with remnants of her last snack. No help there. In fact, no help anywhere: there was not a decent seat to be had.

I wandered to the doorway, but the heavens had decided to open up while my coffee was being prepared, so no help there either. I set my hot cup down among a display of coffee and tea pots for sale and departed. Bitterly.

Next stop: Café Verdé, where I ordered up a plain cup of coffee in a plain porcelain cup. Here, too, it was hard to find a seat. One guy was leaning on his elbows in front of his MacBook, each elbow resting on a separate rectangular table that he had pulled together.

I didn't speak up but later when some old guy did (and the laptopper made all kinds of gracious noises like "I certainly don't need two tables!"), you might have heard me muttering "Wake up dude, there's not a free table in the place" or something like that. Maybe I muttered greedy bastard, not dude.

I found a chair at the little counter around the corner and tried to drink my coffee and read the paper, but pretty soon some guy was asking me if the gym bag on the chair at one end of the counter was mine. It was not. I suggested that the gym bag did not really require its own chair, no matter to whom it belonged, so he moved it and took occupancy, but his immediate needs were not met: it seems I was in the way of his access to power for his laptop.

Grumble.

Ignoring his protests, I packed up my little bag, dumped the hot coffee into a sink with a mutter and a flourish and headed to my sister's shop around the corner, with nothing but evil and mischief in mind.