Take care, friends. For today I embark on a dangerous journey.
The roommate bought pea milk. Pea. Milk.
I must discover how my coffee fares in such uncharted lands.
ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT
IT'S LIKE FUCKING DRINKING SAND! ABORT! MAKE NO LANDING HERE!
I'm my time of need I gaze about. We have not the power to travel to the safe pastures if almond milk, or the homelands of the cow.
No I turn to those who have travelled with me. I loot the supplies of those who will come after me. The "MRE leftovers" box.
Some brave survivor has sacrificed their creamed coffee for mine.
Thank you, brave soldier.
Or I could just drink this black, but I pulled open one of the coffee packs for this bit and now it feels hateful to return it.
Speaking of hateful. I use the scale for my coffee in front of the keurig and espresso machine, both of which take up prime counter space and are never used.
We commence our ritual, not on the promised pea milk, but the soul of the future generation.
I will have to contemplated the microcosm of our parents I have created in this cup.
And a cookie, because fuck you I'm worth it.
