Break

I was remembering this morning that when I used to work with my mom at a glass company (she was secretary to the president, I was in high school and helped out doing things like microfilming records in the summer), 10:30 or 11 was the time that the truck pulled up out front. The truck, unlovingly called 'the garbage truck,' was one of those quilted metal vans out of which are sold hot coffee, donuts, bagels. Cartons of white and chocolate milk. Cigarettes, maybe. Of course there were people who went out every day for a treat, and to smoke. For us it was more of a once-in-a-while, or Because it is Friday kind of a thing. As a denizen of corporate America, I had the convenience of a coffee shop right in the building where I worked. Thinking about it, every job I ever had except for this one had some means of supporting the coffee-break culture, of taking care of the 'I need a treat' feeling.

So here I am at work on a Monday, which is a bit unusual (I don't usually work on Mondays or Fridays; you may think that's 'lucky,' but then that would mean you haven't known me long enough to know that it has been a life's ambition to reverse the "week" and "weekend" schedules and this is as close as I've ever come to realizing that dream). It snowed this morning; not totally unusual, but we're all walking around acting shocked and affronted. It was extra dark, of course, 'thanks' to the time change. What I'd really like is another hot cuppa coffee and an old fashioned donut. There's a very specific type of donut that's called an 'old fashioned' -- it's a very plain cake donut. I'd also like not to be at work, but I'm racking up a lot of extra days to take off this summer so it's not the worst thing. And I really do need to get back to it.

A virtual coffee break, looks like. At least I don't smoke.