Hot Cranky People

It’s official.

Last night my friend EER from New Jersey stayed with me to visit after a week of business meetings in Chicago. He’s a delightful fellow, and he agreed that the Angry Rake in my backyard is indeed the most frightening gardening tool ever.

We went out for beer and Chicago stuffed pizza.

He crashed in my guest room, and this morning before he left for the airport I offered to make him some coffee. Now, I don’t make a lot of coffee at home, but when I do it’s strong. Very strong. My friend Queenbee refuses to drink it.

So I went a little easier this time. Well, it was bad. It wasn’t even the right color. I asked him if he wanted some sugar, and he said no, he takes it black. I had to explain that “black” wasn’t actually an option, but he could take it sort of light brownish and kind of clear.

He was kind, and after tasting it assured me it was fine. Just before his cab arrived to take him to the airport, he ‘fessed up.

“This is the world’s worst cup of coffee.”

I think I should get a plaque or something.