true brew
Hello, fabulous new (to me) coffeeshop.
Hello, fabulous new (to me) coffeeshop, which is also a used bookstore, and which is two blocks away from my house. Which has wireless internet and big comfy chairs and tall windows and soft pleasant music and pastries that look tasty rather than just pretty, and $1.50 free refill café au laits.
I do not make a habit of coffee. I find it delicious and the smell is divine, but so far I can muster wide-awake manicness without it, and even small quantities make my heart explode. (Not in the good way.) And I’d rather not develop the sort of coffee dependence that causes headaches and unpleasantness in its absence.
But if you will forgive me this generic hipster inclination, I sure do love sitting in coffee shops. Right this very moment for example I am listening to the whir of the steamed milk dispenser and the clinking of tip jar coins, and watching a dorky high school kid play video games and a nervous woman scan books. And I’m trying not to make way too much eye contact with a cute curly haired guy in the corner with ripped jeans and a Mac. The woman at the counter now, who I can’t see, just ordered a sixteen ounce hazelnut cap with nonfat milk, but she wants the whipped cream. Hazelnut coffee reminds me of the worst boss I ever had.
I came here this afternoon to feel productive. There is a cover letter that’s been half written for two weeks. (Hazelnut woman just left with her coffee, and the barista tried to give her back some of her large tip, but she said the last time she came in she was out of money and hadn’t left any tip at all.) I wrote half my thesis in coffeeshops, and it’s where I did most of the work for my last big editing job. I’ve been applying for these kinds of jobs lately as filler. I sure wouldn’t mind coming to work every day in a coffeeshop. But I’m unqualified for the work behind the counter and so far unhired for the work you can do at the tables.
There is a small boy ordering a cookie at the counter. I love when parents bring their kids to coffeeshops. If I were a kid in a coffeeshop I’d feel painfully cool and adult. I guess I still do.
This coffeeshop closes at six, one hour from now. Which means if I’m going to finish this cover letter I better get to it. The shop down the street is open twenty four seven, but then I’d have to buy a new coffee and that would be one too many. Even my resilient heart has its limits.
posted by tortaluga @ 5:29 PM
2 Comments:
I have coffee shop envy. All we have here is Starbucks and I refuse to go there ever. I miss the Hungarian Pastry Shop, esp. their Russian coffee and chocolate lace cookies. Actually, our brand new library has a coffee shop that's cute, but they have a big-screen t.v., which I find baffling and depressing. Still, it's nice to have a place to read books and be able to feed the baby.
reading this as i'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop working on theory and studio, and thesis. I _also_ love coffee shops. (and coffee, a little too much). cute boy behind the counter. he's here every morning.
We had a coffee shop in corvallis called the bean bag. there were lots of bean bags, and coffee, and couches and tables, all packed into a tiny little space. That is where I fell in love with coffee shops and coffee-people watching and coffee-shop studying. mmmmm... what is not to love?
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