On a cold winter evening, I snuggle in the blissful comforts of a warm bed with a book for company. But bliss can only be complete with a steaming cup of filter kaapi.
The intoxicating aroma of the ground beans cloud my caffeine-deprived mind nudging me to drag myself out of the warm comforts of the bed and pay tribute to the beans.
As I pour hot water into the filter and the gentle drip of thick coffee become music to my ears, I remember that the milk has all been used up.
There are two options before me – a phone call and an extra buck can bring the precious bottle of milk right by my doorstep in about the time that I can chide about my unorganized ways or I can save the buck and get some exercise with a quick walk to the supermarket where I can pick up a fresh bottle of my choice of milk – from among the low-fat, full-fat, double-cream, half-cream options.
A quick browse of the counter beside it and then every counter and asile after and before it will soon stack the cart with everything that I would and would not require on another rainy day.
Realization and regret on my impromptu shopping spree strikes only after the bill has been handed over. I force myself to see the bright side of the situation, thanking my stars that I had chosen to carry the card instead of digging deep into my pocket.
I must confess that the free tutelage on haggling from the experts in my younger days during the many visits to the local market have been wasted by the supermarket revolution.
I, like the rest of its loyal customers, will queue up with a cart full of what I think are the choicest picks from the zillion brands and trillion varieties made available, willing to part with a big chunk of my bank balance and shed tears of joy when they surprise me with a gift voucher that will ensure that I am back on yet another shopping spree with a paltry discount in return for more than a decade of loyalty.
As for my caffeine-deprived, cold evening – my choice has been made and so has the phone call. I am sure the delivery person will be at my doorstep even as I dig deep into my wallet to fish out the extra buck and the music of the dripping coffee has come to a halt.