What’s this fly doing in my coffee?

There i was, absentmindedly sipping my coffee. A fly buzzes by, I wave it away and refocus on the task at hand..

Without taking my eyes off the screen, I lift the cup to my lips and take a sip.

Something solid, what’s that? I think back, trying to remember if I’d dropped part of a cracker into this cup earlier in the day..

Crunch. Crunch. I’m sad to say I took not one but two crunchy bites before my attention came fully into focus on the fact that I didn’t have a cracker in my mouth.

It was a fly. A big one, with brilliant red multifaceted eyes. It had died in the steaming hot coffee. And I had been drinking steamed fly coffee.

I spit it out and threw it in the trash can, of course. But I know what you’re wondering; I was asking myself the same question: should I drink the remaining fly coffee?

For what it’s worth, I spent several minutes pining over the decision. Both sides have merit. In the end, I downed the cup; it really didn’t taste any worse for having a fly in it.

Was this karmic punishment for making half-caff at 9pm? I’ll never know; but I won’t forget that distinctive sensation.