Fear the Crab

I know I said that I would focus on completing the Grey Knights miniatures in my possession, but that was after I spent two weeks painting this figure:

Sisters of Battle - HQ

Continued ~

I’ve been painting Games Workshop miniatures on and off during the recent couple of decades. It’s usually been a sporadic affair, casually shoved into the skein of my life whenever fancy took me. As expected, the results of such endeavors feature little worth displaying, particularly since I don’t consider myself to be qualified for competitive painting; no Golden Daemons or Slayer Swords for me.

Continued ~

This morning at The Office, I went to the cafeteria to get breakfast.  It’s an average routine for when I neglect to bring oatmeal or my squishy bowl set, and I had a few dollars squirreled away for such occasions.

Upon receipt of my breakfast special (eggs, bacon, potatoes), I noticed that only one register was in operation, and it was at the espresso bar.  Fair enough, it’s happened before, and all it means is that I will be waiting behind people eager for their fix.

The order in front of me got mixed up in the space between the clerk and the customer, as a mocha shake was created with regular chocolate instead of white as was ordered.  Why the customer elected not to observe the preparation of her drink could be attributed to a lack of attention or caring, but she chose the moment the clerk handed her the shake to question its contents.

All that did was create a slight delay as the clerk had to make the correct mocha shake.  I figured, it’s no big deal for me; I’m only at work.  Yet in the midst of this new preparatory adventure, the clerk asked if anyone in line wanted the mistaken order.

Heck, I’ll take it. Ordinarily I’m a regular coffee guy; black, and nothing funny in it. I don’t mind an occasional espresso, and I do prefer a mocha to a caffe latte (except I’ve grown to hate when baristas feels they have to get all fancy and add stupid cinnamon/chocolate art designs in the foam). I told the clerk to pass it my way, and he seemed grateful enough to charge me half-off. Score!  Bonus!

Smug with my new and cheaply-acquired drink, I made the journey back to The Office. I took a sip with each 5th step, not out of any adherence to a set cadence, but just because that’s how long it took to savor and swallow.

I opened the door to the main hallway with my near-frozen fingers (it’s hard to hold onto a cold shake). I keyed in my security code to The Office door. I turned the handle to open the door, so that I could sit at my desk, eat my breakfast special of eggs, bacon and potatoes, and drink my mocha shake with regular chocolate instead of white.

And as the handle turned enough to open the door, I dropped the fucking shake.