It is the first cold morning. A hot cup of coffee and curling up in your lovers arms is the suggestion of the weather. I will have neither and the consolation is that someone out there will suffer with me this morning.
It occurs to me that I am going to the birthplace of beinets and coffee on Friday to the Faulkner Society to present "China's Weaponized Economy" in whatever form it will be presented. And I will be changing my presentation to meet the topic as opposed to the other way around.
I do think that any accusation of intelligence is offset by my choice of location in the middle of this coffee battle.
It is not much of a battle. The romantic side of sitting at night with a cup of coffee, or sitting by the lazy mississippi river with a coffee steaming in one hand and a plate of beinets on my lap is more of a problem than the headaches which never came, the shakes, dts or whatever else I was supposed to feel (assuming they are not still coming). I'm sure even Faulkner himself spent many a morning with those puffy coffectionary sugar coated donuts on his lap and a glass of milk, yes?
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