Every morning, I face a tough decision. Often, I’m barely awake. It’s too early to think, I think, but think I do. Think I must. Because my next move sets the tone for the entire day.
I have to choose a coffee mug.
Scoff if you will (and Tara does), but picking a coffee cup is a decision I don’t take lightly. I will stand there, staring at that mug tree for, no exaggeration, a minute or two sometimes. Pondering, calculating, considering. Often, it’s my wife’s snickering that snaps me back to reality, ope, there goes gravity. (‘Scuse me, we just watched 8 Mile.)
“A mug’s a mug!” Tara says, but I disagree. She may be able to grab one willy-nilly without any forethought whatsoever, but my brain doesn’t work that way. Each mug is unique. Some are thicker than others, which allows your coffee to retain heat longer. If I’m taking a few sips before dashing off to work, I don’t need a big mug, but if I’m working from home, I’m going to be savoring that beverage. I want it to stay hot.
Then there’s the concept of mouth feel. The thickness of the rim and smoothness of the mug’s finish contribute to the sipping experience. A curved lip is especially appealing to the palate, I have found.
Let’s not overlook the handles. Some are more rounded versus square. There are big handles and smaller ones, so your grip varies. Certain mugs are just easier to pick up and put down, making them more aerodynamic. Like when you’re flying an airplane, you have to consider lift and drag. Tara might not give a flying fig about velocity ratio, but when I’m staring at those mugs, I am always thinking about the ratio of the distance moved by the effort to the distance moved by the load, i.e., input speed to output speed. I’m all about maximum efficiency, baby! The quicker that coffee cup touches my lips, the sooner its caffeinated magic will course through my veins.
Plus, c’mon, am I really going to use the Plant Lady flowerpot mug?!
(At least when I’m making a Moscow Mule the choice is an obvious one.)
Tara might think I’m a madman, but you know who doesn’t? Her cousin, Teran. He visited us a year ago and I was explaining all this to him one morning when he caught me staring at the wall. And you know what? He totally agreed with me! Both of us were explaining to Tara about the importance of mouth feel and it was a glorious moment. I felt vindicated.
And there’s zero percent chance he was humoring me, in case you’re wondering.
Eyes on the Fun Size Prize
Today is my town’s weird officially sanctioned trick-or-treating day. Sunday afternoon, 1–4 p.m. I spent a lot of time decorating the yard with about a million (okay, only five, but still!) skeletons with glowing red eyes that don’t even light up until it’s dark. They don’t look nearly as creepy when it’s bright and sunny out, as it naturally is today. Plus there’s all the solar-activated green glowing eyeballs that turn on automatically at dusk, and the glowing ghosts hanging from the trees, and the abundant and colorful light-up window decorations. None of these things are worth turning on in broad daylight IMHO.
Don’t even get me started on the fog machine, which I never bothered taking out of storage this year. I suppose I could hook it up, but won’t that just look like something’s burning on the front porch? Someone might call the fire department, and that would be awkward.
It’s maddening. Trick-or-treating should take place Halloween night, end of story.
None of this might even matter: we only got two trick-or-treaters last year, and only because I was outside raking leaves and practically had to chase them down. This is not a good look. My fellow townie, NGS, commented afterward that you’re supposed to turn your porch light on, which probably explains why the parade of costumed kids were walking by without stopping. That had me wondering whether I’d been labeled the neighborhood outcast for some reason. I question how effective turning the porch light on will be in the middle of the afternoon, but fine, I’ll conform to the weird little rules.
Just in case, I bought three bags of candy. And then made the mistake of leaving them on the counter.
Cats, I tell you!
You know how, if you have multiple children, one is generally considered “the good kid” and another is “the bad kid,” at least to a certain degree? It’s the same with cats. Laverne is definitely the sweet and gentle one in this family.
Don’t get me wrong, she’d totally go to town on that 100 Grand too, but only if a gust of wind knocked it off the counter. Shirley’s the ringleader too hungry to wait for an errant breeze. She had her jaws wrapped around that bag of candy faster than you can say “trick or treat.”
How long does it take you to choose a mug? Which is more important, mouth feel or velocity ratio? When does your community do trick-or-treating?
Mark My Words 
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