The ubiquitous coffee date

If we were having coffee together, like, right now ...

You would probably wonder why I smell. Fair enough. I went for an early morning run by myself, and I haven't had time to shower ... because I had to make you coffee.

You would probably be kind enough not to mention that I smell being polite and well-showered.

I would tell you about how nice it was to actually be able to go for an early morning run. I spent months whining that Miles was getting up too early thus interrupting my pre-dawn workouts but, as always, the routine has changed. He's now consistently sleeping past 5:30 a.m. and sometimes past 6 a.m.

You would tell me that if I got up pre-dawn to run that I probably had time to shower since it's now 8 a.m. I could have even started the coffee and then went to take a shower.

If we were having coffee, I'd tell you that you could take a spot at the table but I'd have to clear some room. It seems dining at the actual table is a novelty these days and the space has become a collector of junk. I would tell you that I wish I had time to organize it but life seems to be go-go-go right now.

I'd also try to blame the dirty table on Mark, who still has his winter coat hanging on a chair. I just don't understand why he won't believe it's spring.

I would continue on, letting my coffee get cold, and theorize that it's because he's not running right now. If he were, he'd know that it's now summer and runs are now a sweaty, sopping mess by a quarter-mile.

I would tell you that it's probably why I smell, admitting that my hygiene needs some help.

If we were having coffee, I'd leave you at the table to heat up my coffee in the microwave for 30 seconds. If there is anything I hate in life, it's lukewarm coffee.

I would ask you why it rains, prompting you to take 10 minutes to remember the lesson from elementary science. I have a good laugh (on the inside) as I drink my coffee as you stall just the way I did when Miles asked me on a walk on Thursday.

Miles would, at this point, bound into the room and ask where his "Jake the Pirate" sword is. I would bang my head against the table, knocking over my coffee, because I didn't know a toy from the dollar bins would cause me so much angst.

With my coffee gone and you tired of smelling me, you would probably leave at this point - which is fine because I need to go to the grocery ... and buy more coffee.