I hate mornings. I so honestly do, even though I enjoy the morning freshness, first sun rays and the deafening silence. But, when my alarm clock goes on with its squeaky sound and interrupts my dreaming all of a sudden, everything turns black. It’s the time of the day when it’s best that no one approaches anyone. And in that condition, all sleepy with eyelids half closed, I move to the kitchen like a zombie and look for my coffee.
Now, while preparing coffee is one thing, putting it in the right coffee mug is another. Just after me hating mornings, is me hating drinking coffee in a mug that’s not mine.
Everyone has their own coffee mug. I have three, to be exact. One small for morning coffees with a quote on it. It’s not an inspiring one, but something that represents my Monday desire to bring the weekend back. It kind of stimulates me to work my ass off during the week and plan the weekend right, so it’s so good I actually want to live through it again. My second mug is a little bigger and definitely wider, and serves for my midday coffee when I need an energy boost. That one has a rather suitable quote on it and a nice coffee-loving design. And my last one is a gift from a dear friend and it’s more like a tea mug, but I use it for coffee when I need a really large and strong dose of it.