Rock Bottom

The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Well, I think after this morning, there’s no way I could deny it anymore. We all know I’m a coffee addict. That isn’t much of a surprise. But I don’t think I truly knew exactly how bad I was.

I had a Passion Party the other night, which went late. The next morning, I was tired (this lovely time change isn’t helping), I had a headache, and I needed coffee. I take my coffee with cream, no sugar. I don’t do black coffee. I need stuff in it.

I brewed a fresh pot, and went to the refrigerator to get the half and half. There were about two drops in the bottom of it. Empty.

No. No! NOOO!!

Okay, after a few deep breaths, I was trying to come up with a back-up plan. The kids were still in bed, so it’s not like I could just run out for half and half. Then an idea struck – amazing that I had a rational thought since I had had no coffee. I remembered that a couple of weeks ago I made a cake using whipping cream.

Cream! It was still in the refrigerator. I started shoving things around looking for it. Aha! I located it right behind the margarine and edible body pens. I looked at the date. March 10. Okay, that was only a few days ago. I was sure it was still good. Right?

I smelled it. Crap! It had started to turn. It wasn’t so horribly bad that it was turning into yogurt, but it definitely wasn’t what I would call “good.”

I thought to myself, I’m only going to use a little bit, and I’ll bet when drowned in a cup of very strong coffee, you won’t even be able to tell the cream was a little off. Right?

So, I poured it in my cup. And there I sat in my kitchen, drinking my coffee laced with sour cream. Not one of my finer moments. Unfortunately, you could tell the cream was bad even when it was mixed with strong coffee. And I drank it anyway. *sigh* That is rock bottom, my friends. Rock. Bottom.