I don’t miss their coffee

A pro­pos of noth­ing… My par­ents were con­sum­mate hosts. They loved enter­tain­ing, and they always made guests feel wel­come. Every­one loved my folks. They even made ME feel like a guest, even though I could get my own bever­age, or snack or whatever. The one area where they fell short was… cof­fee. They made abso­lutely shite cof­fee. It was­n’t just that they bought a crummy brand, (which they did), they just barely used any grounds, and so the cof­fee was super weak. I put cocoa, honey and cream in my cof­fee, so it becomes this rick and deli­cious “muck,” as Matt calls it. But at their place, even with all that stuff in it, it tasted watery and thin and yucky. As much as I enjoyed their com­pany over cof­fee, I would come home and … make cof­fee, coz my body knew it was miss­ing some­thing. But… they liked it, so I guess that’s ok. Weird.

Miss you Dav­id and Shar­on. Don’t miss your coffee.