Creaking of a camel’s back

I ducked down to the shops yesterday to get some cat food, as stocks had become Desperately Low, and returned with an artisanal* loaf of bread and a pack of glass straws. Because…stoilish, I guess?

This morning I am up and at ‘em bright and early and have prepped my first iced coffee of the day. Popped the glass straw in for a smidge of that Influencer Lÿfestÿle and…..you’re expecting me to say that the glass straw shattered, like all my Greige Interiors hopes and dreams, but no…..and it turns out that (a) the straw was too long for the glass, which really did a number on my influencer imposter syndrome, let me tell you and (b) it’s really a smoothie or milkshake straw so I sucked up all that caffeine-y goodness so quickly, totes depriving me of the pleasure of drifting around my tastefully appointed, minimalist apartment, thin curtains wafting gently in an idle breeze, sipping slowly and thoughtfully on my iced caffeinated beverage whilst contemplating the next entry (made with a fountain pen) in my bullet journal.

What I’m really trying to say here is: I’ve had to make a second coffee and I’ve bunged a skinny little wheat straw into it – those suckers (like, lidderally) make you work for every mouthful. Cheek aerobics.

*I love how the spelling of that word is so relevant to the oeuvre.