Casualties of Coffee.

Coffee: 1
Dabbler: 0

It has happened again: I am seated at my desk at work, trying hard to clean the stains on my tie, and my left hand is sporting yet another burn mark.

I have this "thing," wherein when I carry hot beverages, I must spill them. Usually on myself. I am not joking, and I am not exaggerating: literally every time I go out to buy coffee, at least some of it ends up out of the cup and on my shoes. This is not a compulsion -- it is not as though I feel some sort of need to bathe my hands in searing hot coffee; nor do I believe I have a subconscious desire to punish or hurt myself (well, at least not with coffee). It is simply one of those laws of nature, much like the famous Murphy's Law: "If Dabbler is holding a cup of some hot liquid - be it coffee, tea, or chicken noodle soup - then he must spill a portion of said liquid, preferably upon his own person." And it really is only with hot stuff. Cold drinks? No problem... I can carry several at a time, with no fear of dropping or spillage (unless they're alcoholic, and I've had a few).

And yet, I love my morning coffee. I love it so much, in fact, that I am willing to suffer this masochistic ritual on a daily basis. It is as though God is telling me: "You can have your coffee... but you must pay for it in blood."