Monday, September 28, 2009

My Starbucks Experience

I love Starbucks.

I do. I know, we've talked about it a lot on this here blog. I love the smell and taste of the coffee, the fact that the baristas know my name, and just the overall experience.

Yesterday, I went to my favorite local drive-through Starbucks. I got an iced Pumpkin Spice latte, and drove home to leisurely sip my drink as I did homework on a fine Sunday afternoon.

Later last night, I was doing the dishes and getting the kitchen cleaned up. There was a bit of latte left in the cup, so I dumped the latte down the sink before throwing the cup in the trash. As I tilted the cup and watched the latte drain out, I heard a "clink."

Hm, strange. All the ice had melted, so I thought this was a bit strange. I looked into my sink and saw...

...a dime.

Yep, someone's dirty, filthy, germ-laden dime was in my latte.


It was too late to call Starbucks, so I stopped by tonight after I left the gym. The manager was apologetic and gave me a free drink (dime-free), then had me fill out an Incident Report. She figures that a dime dropped from someone's hand into the ice machine on it's way to the tip jar; apparently the tip jar for the drive-through window is kept near the ice machine. I wondered aloud how many other people had gotten an extra surprise in their drinks.

I really hope someone from the corporate office calls me. After all the germs I drank, I think I deserve more than one free drink. After all, I probably paid for that store.

And the answer is...not ready.

What was the question, you ask? Well, since getting married, several people have wondered aloud when we're going to have kids. I know I want kids, but now that I can have them (I know, I could before, but now that it's "socially acceptable" to have them) I'm terrified to do so. How does someone decide it's the right time? How do you make that decision to try to do what you've spent so many years trying to prevent?

Anyway, I tell everyone I have a dog, and for now that's enough. And truly, he is very much like a child. When we first got him, he woke us up every hour at night to go out and potty (and let me tell you, it's easier to go into a warm bedroom in January to change a kid's diaper than it is to take a small puppy who doesn't like the rain outside to potty). We were so tired and stressed out, we were always on edge.

Yesterday, Bruiser was apparently helping to prepare me for motherhood. How, you ask?

He barfed all day long.

He barfed three times before I even got up yesterday. Then he laid around, lethargic, all morning. Every time he drank some water, it came right back up.

It was truly, thoroughly, disgusting.

Many of you probably think that isn't so bad. Clearly, you don't have my gag reflex. It's bad. So bad that I begged and pleaded with Hubby to clean up each new pile as it appeared on the floor or the carpet, and was informed each time that it'd cost me a foot rub, then an additional foot rub, and so on.

I didn't even care.

People keep telling me it's different when it's your own child. But I don't care. Bodily fluids belong inside your body, and nowhere else.