Less Coffee

[Edit: Originally posted on April 3, I deleted this one after only a few minutes (but not before it made it's way to a friend's Google reader). After hearing some surprisingly positive reviews, it's back from the cutting room floor.]

Here's another entry for my list of brilliant solutions (painful, painful solutions).

It's 7 a.m. Sunday morning and Julie and I are ten minutes into an hour-long drive to Baileyville KS. In this story, Julie has coffee. In the car. A moving car.

The next phase of the story has two versions:

1. Julie calmly sat in the passenger's seat. Tuning out her idiot husband's attempts to invent a terrible new song about... just completely random nonsense (so terrible), she looked ahead. The next stretch of road looked straight and smooth, so it was probably safe to take another hit off that tasty delicious gas station coffee. Just as she raised her cup of steamy coffee goodness, the moron behind the wheel pretended to dodge an imaginary turtle (or some other nonsense). Even Julie's legendary master ninja skills were not enough to overcome physics and despite her superhuman reflexes, some of the coffee sloshed forth, onto her dress. In a pure expression of frustration, Julie then bellowed, proudly and with great meaning.

2. So I was driving along, and at one point the road curved. While going around the curve, Julie somehow managed to jostle her coffee cup and spilled a little bit. I noticed this when she squealed. (Hehe, it's cute when she squeals.) I stowed her still full cup and tossed her a travel-sized pack of kleenexes.

Whatever happened, the situation seemed contained. However, I noticed that the cup of coffee was still almost completely full. Any subsequent drinks would have very little margin of error to avoid a repeat catastrophe. I needed a way to reduce the fluid level in her cup.

After asking Julie's permission to lower the level a bit I developed a plan. A good plan. I would simply roll down my window and pour out some of the coffee. There was only one problem.

We were going 65 miles per hour. In addition, I am an idiot. So, while at speed, I tried to pour out this coffee. Forward. My primary concern: don't drop the cup or pour out two much coffee.

Exactly one quarter of a second later, I had a new priority: stop pouring flaming hot coffee up my arm.

It was all up my arm and all over my shirt. It was also hot. Nonetheless, I coped. I reeled in the coffee, extinguished my arm, and began work on a new plan. I think Julie was amused. I hadn't even poured out very much.

My next attempt was at a stop sign. It worked a lot better.

Today's lesson: when possible, avoid pouring hot liquids upwind.


Evelyn said…
Your story made me laugh. I'm glad you brought it back from the cutting room floor.

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