Pocket full of jingle and a venti lactaid black tea latte

A little rushed this morning as the male counterpart couldn’t seem to get his ass out of bed.  Of course he didn’t sleep much as usual.  He is usually up all night before he travels – you would think with the amount of travelling he has done he would be a little more relaxed about it, but no, he is an anxious flyer.  I don’t think it is the actual flying but rather the displacement that makes him anxious and with flying through the soul sucking frankfurt airport, he is on edge….and can’t find his watch.  Tick tick tick, we are running late and finally it appears under a pile of clothes I plan on getting rid of.
He hands me a pocketful of loonies and toonies to rid himself of his canadian coinage and off we go.  The traffic is light and we get there in good time, and he anxiously wants to get through security so he can have a cigarette or 12 before the long flight.
Good bye for 3 months.
At the parking check out I discover the pocket full of loonies and toonies is in reality british pounds, euros and dubi whatever they use.  So now I have a bunch of sounds signifying nothing.
Ahhhh well, a latte on my way home.  The pretentious coffee shoppe and the grossly over priced beverage await.  There I watch and wonder at the history of the coffee klatch – it has been going on as long as the monkey men discovered warm beverages serving the purpose of tribal community and friendship.  too bad starbucks wasn’t more into the friendship aspect of the ritual.  The prices are ridiculous.  But yet, I buy.  I LIKE my black tea latte.  It is a justified treat whipped to sooth my jangled soul on a dirty spring morning.
A shower and a banana later I am scruffing through the dirty and grit of the parking lot on my way to work.  I hate this time of year and yet look forward to it the whole long hard winter.  The ease at walking out of the house without boots and jackets and mits and survival gear cannot be minimized.  My feet, freed from the servetude of boots can farely fly me up the stairs.  I feel if not decades younger, at least a winter lighter.
Hours with email and reports and data and problems and I find myself suddenly filling out an online application for admision to the masters program at the university!  What strange maddness is this!?

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